Worn
by JIBBSFOREVER in Paris
Summary: The life Sarah had with her kids and Seth before she moved home. Graphic. Sad. Please read informed that this contains adult content. From studying Sarah, I feel that this is a very appropriate and hinted at.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, ma'am." The man behind the desk said, "If you can't pay today, you'll have to leave."

Of course she would. That was how it worked. Everything in life came at a cost. Even the crappy motel they had been staying at for the past month.

Sarah leaned over the desk, her worn hands outstretched to show the man that she was serious. "You don't have any work for me to do?" She asked, "Like washing sheets or cleaning rooms or…"

The man looked down at his paperwork, ignoring her and said, "I'll let you know if we have any men who ask for an escort service…" Then he looked up at her, his face gleaming with his insult. "Your husband asked me that yesterday. Whether I would sleep with you in exchange for another week."

Of course he had. If only Sarah felt that this was new. If only she hadn't expected this from Seth. She stood up and said, "Well, I would be the one who would have to offer that to you." And she turned around and said, "And I'm not offering."

The man said, "That's not what your husband said." Then he added, "Checking out tomorrow?"

She didn't even give him the satisfaction of an answer – other than her finger as she flipped him off as she walked away, down the rows of doors to their room number. 17. The last place had been number 4. And the place before that, 12.

This wasn't abnormal. The feeling of displacement as she felt right now. She leaned against the door before she inserted the key. Amber was sleeping. Or should have been. After running around at the park, both of the kids should have been overtired. Drew, with his little toddler running, probably tired himself out for the rest of the night. He had been sleeping in the playpen, still in his clothes, before Sarah put Amber in beside him after she put the little girl's nightgown on. Even though she was five, she was still so little that it was easier to put the both in there together – especially if Sarah had to leave for a little while. And the floor of the motel's that they were living at - they weren't clean enough for Amber to sleep on the floor, so the playpen was the best that Sarah could do.

The dark sky overhead just seemed to mock Sarah – when the sun came up, she would need to have everything finished and packed and ready to load up in the little car. Going where, she didn't know. Seth was the one who always decided that.

If she could ever find him.

She had called his phone – Greg's phone – any other person in the band's phone trying to get ahold of her husband. But nothing but voicemails. From everyone. She left her generic, "It's an emergency, call me as soon as you can" message on everyone's phones.

As much as she needed to pack, she didn't want to wake the kids up while she did it. So she decided to set the alarm clock for really early and pack in the morning – at least then the kids would be less crabby if she woke them – they would have slept and might be a little jovial. Not that it mattered – she had to pack whether they were happy or not – but getting anything done with a questioning five-year-old and a whining two-year-old would only add to the stress.

She quietly slid the key through the lock – praying that the beeping from the lockpad wouldn't wake the kids. She was just about to shut the door behind her when she heard him.

"Little fingers…" She closed her eyes as he slurred out the song at the top of his lungs as he walked down the doorways. He loved to sing when he was drunk. Normally it was a song the band would sing that night – singing off key and slurring every word. But this song? "Little toes…" He got closer to the door, she could tell from the way his voice was coming that he was stumbling around. This song… "My forehead… your nose." The song they wrote together after Amber had been born. God, what a full circle thing here.

She didn't want him to wake the kids up. So she quickly walked out the door and just about closed it behind her when he was standing right there. His drunken smile on his bloody face. Eyes glazed over with a few too many shots of tequila and, from the way he wasn't shaking or breathing hard – a snort or two of something else too. Probably cocaine. From the way his eyes were staring down her body. When he could afford it, the heroin he could find normally made him so tired he had no desire for anything else. But that was few and far between. The cocaine was more regular – and, Sarah knew from experience that cocaine made a person very sexually needy.

His words were all strung together, and he almost seemed unable to stand up straight and speak at the same time, his body swaying along with his words. "My beautifulwife… It's Sarah!" He exclaimed her name so loudly she jumped, and then immediately worried about the other people staying in the rooms next to them.

Looking to see if anyone was around, she reached for his arm and whispered, "Seth, please… the kids are asleep. And it's eleven at night."

He didn't act like she said anything, just continued talking very loud. "You're sooo pretty." And he stepped so he was standing right up against her. His bloody hand reached for her face and he didn't stop, even when she flinched – he just ran his fingers along her jaw. "All the guys in the band tellme that you're the most pretty woman they've seen."

Oh, god. Sarah hated this. He was so drunk. And high. Pushing his hand away, she just shook her head and said, "You should sleep, Seth. Because tomorrow we have to…"

"I'm gonna sleep with my wife." He said, a broad drunken smile on his face as he quickly wrapped his hands around her hips.

Her hands reached down and surrounded his big wrists, trying to push him off, but he held on. She protested, "Not now. You're drunk and the kids…" She tried to sound positive, knowing if he knew she was telling him no that things wouldn't go well for them. "… they're sleeping and I don't want to wake…"

He playfully growled and leaned his face down to hers, like he was going to kiss her. His breath stunk as he said, "The kids should know their parents love each other." And he went of her lips, but she turned her face so his lips hit her ear.

As she felt his grip around her waist tighten, she tried to push him off again. "Do you have the money for the motel?" If she could distract him until the high wore off, maybe he would fall asleep from the liquor. Maybe she could lug him to the bed before he puked on her and prop him on his side so if he did expel the liquor, it would be towards the disgusting floor and she wouldn't wake up next to him covered in vomit.

"Stop talking about money, Sarah." He said, his voice losing his flirty tone. "Unless you want someone to mistake you for a hooker." His hands moved up her sides to her chest, where he cupped his hands underneath her breasts, massaging her through her shirt. "Let's get this off of you."

This couldn't be happening. Not again. God, she should be an expert at this by now. Don't let him get handsy, take him in, pull his shoes off, search his pockets for sharps before laying him down on the bed, and cover him up with his own blanket so she wouldn't accidentally snuggle up with him in the middle of the night. That was what she should do. Why couldn't she?

She just put her hands on his chest and said firmly. "Seth, no. Let's do this in the morning." His breath against her neck as he kissed her – it made her squirm to get him to stop. He didn't move – who was she kidding. Sure, she was 5'9 and not unaccustomed to hard work – but she was skinny, since Drew stopped breastfeeding, most of the food went to the kids – and compared to her 6'5 husband, with his broad shoulders and muscles strong from carrying band equipment everywhere – she knew pushing him away wouldn't do anything to stop what he was trying to start. But she still tried, and said a bit louder, "We can have all the fun in the morning. I need some sleep. We have to move again in the morning."

He just pushed her back, the door that hadn't been latched behind them swung open with a loud crash against the wall. The kids. Seth grabbed her arms that were trying to push him away and pulled her closer to him as he walked towards the bed. She could hear Drew stirring in the playpen, and she just pleaded with Seth, "Drew's awake. Let me go put him back to…"

"Shut up." Seth whispered as he rammed his leg between hers, using it to push her body the rest of the way to the bed. "Let's do this, Sarah."

She didn't want this. God, his lips on her neck made her want to throw up – when he wasn't sober, the thought of having sex with him was repulsive. Only because of what he was capable of when he wasn't in his right mind. As her back hit the unmade bed, she just said, "Seth, the kids. They're awake. I don't want them…." She sat up on her elbows, trying to pull her knees up on the bed so they were closed and blocking him. But his big hands wrapped around her ankles and threw them to the ground. Her voice got more and more panicked, "I don't want this. Seth…" If she kept saying his name, maybe she could get through the drugs. Maybe she could bring enough of sober Seth out that he would realize what he was doing.

But, for as drunk and high as he was, he pulled off his pants and boxers fast, and then reached for the button on her jeans. Sarah rolled onto her stomach, so his hands lost their target. "No." She said loudly, knowing that both of the kids were stirring already. "Stop."

The hand came down so hard, she cried out in pain, the surprise making it absolutely unable to bite her tongue.

"You like that?" He yelled at her as he towered over her. "Roll over or I'll slap that ass of yours harder next time."

God, what was she going to do? He was her husband. Maybe she didn't want to have sex with him, but would it be so bad to just get it over with?

A hand snaked into her brown hair and before she knew it, he yanked her up so she was sitting on the bed with her knees, her back forced up against his chest as he hissed into her ear, "We can do this the hard way or the easy way." Heart pounding. Breathing labored. The hand that wasn't using her hair as leverage found the button on her jeans and fumbled with it until it popped open.

All she could whisper through her frightened mouth was, "Seth, the kids. Please. I don't want them to see this. Please…"

His voice wasn't so terrifying as he softened his voice and his hands, letting go of her hair. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Almost apologetic. But his fingers reached down underneath her jeans, his fingers pushing up against her panties, rubbing the material between her legs. "I just love you so much, I… I want to have sex with you."

His voice was that of a little boy. The alcohol really was doing wonders tonight on his emotions. She just said, "I love you too, Seth." And she reached for the hand between her legs, pulling it up and encasing his hand with her small one – holding him so he knew how much she cared for him. Gently, her words chosen carefully, she said, "But we love the kids too." She gestured with her head over to the playpen, where little Drew was standing, sucking on his thumb while he watched his parents. "And we need to let them sleep." She could feel his hand relax in hers.

Maybe it was working. She needed to see him. She turned around, so she was facing him, willing her heart to stop pounding as she began to see the husband she recognized. The man she married – staring down at her. Still wasted, she knew he was under the influence. But there wasn't that fire in his eyes. Maybe his coke high was coming down. He would want to sleep when that happened. She always used to. Running her fingers gently along his bruised jaw, she whispered, "Do you want to go to bed?" His eyes went to the pillow at the top of the bed. She needed to encourage him. "I'll tuck you in?" Like she was talking to Amber. Her five-year-old. He was her husband.

He brought his lips up into a pout and asked, "If we have sex then the kids won't sleep good?"

Sarah shook her head, and stood to her feet next to the bed, buttoning her pants while she assured him, "Yeah, we can't have sex when the kids are trying to sleep." Then she added, "How about you climb into bed and I'll go get you some aspirin and water?"

She patted the bed, and, like an oversized teddy bear, he sat down and just looked at her with his green eyes clouded with alcohol. As she sank down to her knees to take off his shoes, he touched her hair like it was expensive china. "I am so happy you're my wife." She just smiled up at him and pulled the first shoe off. He was so drunk. "And we have these kids. They're so perfect." He whipped around to look at them, and then turned around as she pulled the other shoe off. As she stood to her feet, her back froze up for a second before she stood all the way up. God, she had to have that checked.

"Lay down, honey," She said sweetly, fluffing the pillow as he laid his dirty head down, holding her hand gently while the other pulled the blanket up around him, tucking it in around his shoulders. He put her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, his eyes drooping even more as she leaned down and touched her lips to his forehead. "Just rest, ok?"

She watched his eyes close, waiting for him to breathe a few times before she pulled her hand out of his, and then, and only then, did she herself take a deep breath. The drop in adrenaline made her hands shake, and she realized just how close that had been. How close she had been to the horrible situation that happened more than she wanted to remember. She started to sit down in the little chair by the miniscule table by the window, but she jumped up when Drew started whimpering.

She quickly walked over, whispering as she picked up her little boy, "Shhh… Drew, baby. Daddy's sleeping." He was tired. She could tell as he laid his little head on her shoulder, his thumb still in his mouth. She rubbed his back as she snuggled her head on his. "It's time for bed." She could tell by the way he was holding her that he had just been scared. Sarah thought back to how Seth had thrown the door open, threw her on the bed, and proceeded to yell at her and smack her. And how she had yelled at him to stop. No wonder this kid was still awake. Looking down at her little Amber, snuggled up with all the blankets, Sarah was thankful that at least one kid wouldn't be traumatized for life from tonight. She prayed that Drew, who was now breathing deeply and sound asleep, would not remember anything from tonight. He was only barely two. God, what kind of mother hopes her children forget their childhood? Laying him back down, she reached for her side of the bed and grabbed the sheet, and draped it over Drew, making sure he was all nice and warm before she walked over to the bed.

Too tired to even change into her pajamas, Sarah crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up around her. Her head fell back against the motel pillow that had been hers for the last month. In this trashed place, it cost money to get the sheets changed and fresh linens brought in. But that was fine with Sarah – it meant that the pillow she laid her head on at night was something familiar. What had her life come to? That a pillow she slept on for a month was familiar to her? But it wasn't even hers. She had no house. No bed of her own. Her children slept in a playpen. Because the floor wasn't an option. It made her sad that she found some comfort in a pillow that wasn't even hers.


	2. Chapter 2

Listening to her husband's heavy breathing beside her, Sarah pulled the cover and her pillow to the edge of the bed, wanting to be as far away from him as possible. Because her mind began to take over, and she realized how close she had come tonight. It could have gone either way. Tonight it had gone the right way.

Memories of other nights that had gone wrong flew through her mind. Before the kids – living out of their car – huddled in the backseat with no escape from the alcohol that controlled her husband. No one around to hear her crying for help. How Seth had apologized the next morning. Cuddling her. Telling her that he didn't mean it. That it wasn't him last night.

The night after the band lost the record deal they had been counting on for so long. That had been the night that had scared her the most. Because it didn't stop. On and on. Over and over. He would drink while he was on top of her, taking away any end in sight. He cried the next morning when he saw the marks on her body, kissing them tenderly and weeping over her sore body.

The night one of the band members had splurged and found some liquid cocaine to shoot up. That had been the night she wondered if he had finally blown his brains out on the drugs. Because he hadn't even been able to complete anything – he had just wanted to touch her and use her – in ways they had never done before – things she never wanted to do again. Her body had become his toy, not his wife. It hadn't been until the next afternoon that he woke up, completely blanked on what happened the night before. That had been the day she had first left him. She had packed the kids up into the car, all of their belongings in the trunk, and had just been pulling out of the motel parking lot when he came running out of the room, panicked at the empty room around him. He had gotten on his hands and knees and begged her to stay with him, that he wouldn't survive without her. She had refused, wincing as he wrapped his arms around her hips and cried into her, saying he was so sorry. That he was going to get clean.

That had been a year and a half ago.

She rolled over so she was facing her husband's slumbering body. His face was littered with scars, from old fights and falling down while he was drunk, or that one band member who swung a guitar at his head. But he was her husband. And she loved him.

She had tried so many times to leave him.

She was an expert at packing quietly while he was still coming down after his high. The kids would be put in their car seats with one of their favorite tapes from their grandma and grandpa on in the car. She would shove their clothes and toys into one suitcase, her clothes would go in the half-empty suitcase that usually held Seth's things too. She could take the playpen up and down without concentrating. Throwing that into the trunk, she would leave her motel key on the dresser with a few extra dollars she earned from whatever job she was working – just to make sure he had a way to call someone from the band to come pick him up or call a cab the next time he was drunk and she couldn't come get him.

But the last time she left him, she realized what a mistake she had made not 24 hours later. MJ, the band's manager, had called her cell phone and left a message saying that they couldn't find Seth. He hadn't shown up for their concert that night. She just figured he was on another one of his benders – that would last two or three weeks. But later that night, she got a call from a payphone – it was Seth. He told her where he was.

He had been so beaten up – bloody face, knuckles – a broken wrist. She took him to the doctor, and waited while they set his wrist, holding sleeping Drew in her arms while Amber played with the toys in the waiting room. When he came out with stitches on his forehead and a cast on his wrist, she hadn't been able to say anything, just loaded the kids up in the car and told him she would drop him back off at the motel. But when he sat in the front seat of the car and cried because she wasn't staying with him, it had broken her heart. He said that without her, he had nothing to live for – that this was probably going to be his life, drinking too much and getting into fights because without her and the kids, he had nothing.

She never thought she would be that woman. The woman who stayed when things were bad. That didn't think enough of herself to take her children away and leave the husband who couldn't get his life together.

But she loved him. Seth knew her so well. And he was the sweetest man alive. They would go to the park and let the kids play, and just walk around, holding hands. When he had money, he would bring her some chocolate after one of their concerts. One Valentine's day, he had brought her roses and had someone babysit the kids so that they could have the night to themselves. He was just so sweet. And he loved her. He would protect her from anything.

It was the alcohol that she hated living with. That was who took over her teddy bear of a husband. The alcohol would take over his hands that would pin her to the bed and not give her a chance to get up. The alcohol would deafen his ears to her cries of pain and pleas for mercy. The alcohol would blind his eyes to the blood that would seep from her nose and the scratches along her hips. The alcohol would deaden his senses to the taste of blood in her mouth when he would kiss her. It was the alcohol.

Not her husband.

But separating the two was Sarah's one flaw. Pleading with him to go to rehab. For the kids' sake. For her sake. For his sake. She wanted them to be a family. But not like this. She didn't want to live in constant fear of what would happen when he came home that night. If he came home that night.

However bad it was for Sarah, the thought of leaving him alone – to fight in bars and fall asleep in the middle of the road – she couldn't bear living with that guilt if something happened to him. At least now, he would come home and eventually fall asleep in a bed where she could take care of him. If she could just get his addictions from him, her husband would be safe.

But there was nothing she could change right that minute. And she had to be up early to pack. To go where, she had no idea. But she set the alarm for five in the morning, six hours away. That would give her time to pack while the kids and Seth slept. Make some coffee so he could stand to be in the car with the kids while they drove wherever he decided they would go. And then they would leave. Their nomadic life. But at least they were together. As she fell asleep, Sarah desperately tried to seek comfort in the fact that they were a family.

A few hours later, Sarah rolled over when she heard Seth stirring beside her. She waited for the vomiting to commence – thankful for the bucket that was always present on his side of the bed. When she didn't hear anything besides him breathing deeply beside her, she rolled over and tried to sleep again, glancing at the clock realizing she had two hours left to sleep. The kids were quiet, so she started to doze off when she felt a hand on her shoulder turning her onto her back.

It was dark. But she knew that touch.

"Seth." She whispered, "Go back to sleep." She thought he needed comfort. That he wasn't sure where he was. "I'm right here. Sleep for a little while…"

But the energy from the man next to her sent warning flags up in her mind. The hands that she found on each of her shoulders as he straddled her stomach – this wasn't the slumbering teddy bear she had put to bed a few hours before. His breathing was heavy but fast, as if his heart was pounding. Racing even.

She started to struggle underneath him, but the weight of him on her thighs and his hands on her shoulders made it almost impossible for her to move as his face moved down and his lips devoured hers.

Sarah's own heart was racing as she tried to keep her mouth closed and turn her head, but he bit into the side of her lip and she opened her mouth a little in pain, and he used that opportunity to overwhelm her with his tongue. Even with him right there, she shook her head and tried to say, "No." But it was impossible for anything to be said until he moved away from her mouth, to her ear, where he ravenously bit into her earlobe. "Stop, please Seth." She whispered, trying not to wake the kids.

He could barely breathe. Or he was breathing too much. As he said, "My god, you taste so good, Sarah."

The pounding heart. The inability to breathe deeply because he was breathing so fast. His sudden urge to have sex with her. God, how could she have not emptied his pockets. He had cocaine in there. He had snorted some coke when she woke up to him breathing deeply. What had she been thinking, forgetting to do that? What kind of wife was she? Leaving the drugs for him to snort another line?

She twisted underneath him, but it was of no use. And she just pleaded with him, "Seth, I don't want to do this. Get off."

Suddenly, his hands moved from her shoulders. But his knees were still on her arms, not allowing her to move at all while he reached up and grabbed something out of his shirt pocket. It was dark, and Sarah couldn't make out what it was. But she tried to get him off of her by reasoning with him, "The kids are sleeping." That had worked before. "Let's just go back to sleep." He was fiddling with something. All of his concentration was on it. In his hands.

He mumbled, "You'll sleep soon." What the hell was he talking about? And what was in his hands.

"Seth. Stop. Let me up!" She said, whispering but commanding nonetheless. Her mind was running through what he could be talking about or what was in his hands. And her heart pounded against her chest as she struggled in vain against the strong man on top of her.

He moved his hands just an inch, so that the moonlight streaming in from the dirty window hit the metal in his hand. And if she hadn't been afraid before, she was terrified now.

"What are you doing?" She asked, forgetting about being quiet as her entire body seized in fear. "What are you doing with that needle?"

But he just smiled down at her in his buzzed state. And he said, "Just gonna make it more fun for you." He held the syringe in one hand and brought the other to her face, stroking it lovingly as he said, "I want to have sex but you don't."

She nodded her head furiously up and down and agreed with him. "You're right, Seth, I don't. So you need to…"

But he just shook his head as he said, "This will help you have fun." And he held the syringe up in front of her face while he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. "See, I love you. I want you to be happy while we have sex."

Not wanting to know what was in his hand, she just said, "I don't need drugs to have sex, Seth." God, she hated herself. She was agreeing to sleep with him against her will. But the danger of what was in that needle compared to the discomfort of a few minutes with her husband – she would take the pain of unwanted sex than a drugged state. "Let's just have sex. You and me."

He seemed to think about it, pausing for a second. She couldn't believe how vulnerable she felt – as that two inch needle hoovered over her face while her husband, high on coke, was the one left to make the decision. He asked her, "You and me?"

"Yes." She had to make this sound as tantalizing as possible. "Just you and me." God, she just wanted him to put that needle down. Put it down. Put it.

His face changed. And he shook his head.

And she watched as the needle dove down into her shoulder. And she cried out in pain as he pushed it on and under her skin – the way that injecting drugs worked – and druggie knew that. "No, Seth. Please!" But she saw him plunge the contents of the syringe through the needle, and she knew she only had a few seconds before the drugs took over. Only a few thoughts before she would be under the drugs' control.

Her first thought was trying to understand what drug he had given her. The way he gave it to her, in the artery in her shoulder, made her know she had even less time than if he had put it in her arm. She knew that the shoulder was the place to administer the drug if you wanted an almost instant high – because that artery went straight to the heart. She started to feel ethereal. Like she was in her own world. Warm. Tingly. It wasn't coke. As her vision began to blur into a tunnel, she realized that he had shot heroin into her body. She felt this once before. Heroin. The last time he had given this to her.

Her last and final thought was for her children. Heroin took so long to come out of. Not like cocaine, where she could come out of it a few minutes after the high took over. This could be four to five hours. God, what if the kids woke up? And she was not there for them? Would they cry? Amber could climb out of the playpen. What if she found the needle that Seth had thrown on the ground? She looked up into his eyes, which, as the drugs took over, seemed to be demons chasing after her, she tried to remember that this was her husband. And she turned her head to the playpen where she could now see one of the kids standing up, looking at her, with arms outstretched, begging for her to pick him up. And, before the drugs completely muted her ability to speak, she whispered, "The kids… Seth… the kids…"

And she fell off into a nightmare. A nightmare forced upon her by the man she loved.

Her eyes flew open before she could move. Her body felt stiff underneath her, as if she was paralyzed all except for her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she noticed the room was filled with sun. That meant it was morning. She tried to orient herself, but without moving, that was almost impossible. She wasn't staring at the ceiling. She was staring at a wall. One of the walls. She could tell she was on the ground. Because she could see where the wall and the floor met. The orange carpet and the brown wall.

She could then hear before she could move. It was like her senses were coming back to her one at a time. First, she heard the incessant beeping of the alarm clock. If she set it for five in the morning, she knew it had to have been going off for hours with the way the sun was streaming in. Then came sounds from outside. Cars driving by. An ambulance siren as it flew by the highway outside the motel. And then the baby cry. Squalling. His little words screaming at her, hoarse as if he had been crying for hours. "Ma-ma!" He screamed.

She had to get up. She just had to. Her baby needed her. Her fingers stopped tingling – as if the numbness was leaving her body bit by bit – the way it came in – numbing her entire body – but this time, she could feel her arms again, and she used her fingernails to claw into the carpet and turn her body that felt like lead to her stomach. Now she was facing the ground. Palms on the ground, she could feel her feet tingling and her legs soon after, so she pushed herself so she was on her hands and knees.

The floor underneath her was spinning, but she crawled her way to the bed, where she hoisted herself to her feet, slowly, but she was feeling stronger the longer she was awake.

Drew's screaming intensified as she looked over at him. His face, smeared with sweat from crying and snot that was running out of his nose, was beet red, and he was hiccupping as his body tried to calm himself down. His little fingers were extended to her, begging for her to hold him, and he screamed, "Mama! MAMA!" He was terrified. She made her way over, and was able to stand enough to pick him up. His hands clung to her… skin. His fingernails digging into her skin, and she looked down and realized that she was completely naked. But he grabbed onto her and she could feel his little heart pounding against her chest as he started to calm down.

He was still hiccupping when she sat down on the bed, rubbing his back as she whispered, "Drew, honey, it's ok. Mommy's here." He was drawing air through his nose, and she watched as his little hand reached up and scrubbed the snot from his little nose. She continued to soothe her baby, who had been crying for god knows how long until she woke up. "Where you scared, little buddy?" She asked him. "Mommy's here. You're going to be alright."

She started looking around the room and found, to her horror, the room in an utter upheaval. The sheets from the bed were strewn all over the floor, draped across the table and the TV. She found her clothes littered by the side of the bed she usually slept on, except for her bra, which was flung over the side of the playpen. Although the sheets on the bed hadn't been cleaned since they moved in, the amount of blood on there was sickening. She must have been beaten badly last night.

But as her eyes fell on the light streaming into the room, her eyes flew open wide and she jumped to her feet. The door. It was cracked open. God, it was open. What if one of the kids had gotten out? God that would have been horrible. She ran over and slammed it shut, only to think back on that fear she just had. The kids. She clung to the one in her arm, that was starting to sniffle again at the sudden movement. But she started calling out, "Amber? Amber, come here!" She ran to the bathroom, the door open but the room dark. She flipped the light on and saw blood everywhere – all over the bathroom floor and sink. What if Amber was hurt? She pulled open the see-through shower curtain, thinking if Amber had gotten scared, she might have hid in the bathroom. Nothing. Running back into the room, she screamed again, "AMBER!" But nothing.

Her mother's heart started pounding, and she jumped into gear, despite her pounding headache. Setting the baby, who started screaming yet again, back into his playpen, she grabbed her bra and flung it on as she fell to her hands and knees, looking under the bed while she called out her daughter's name. The bed was clear. She grabbed her pants and sat on the bed, pulling them on as fast as she could move. She pulled her shirt on over her head as she ripped the door to the small closet open, "AMBER!" Her voice held the terror she felt as she realized the last place she had to look.

The baby was screaming but in the playpen, he was safe. He couldn't climb out. Like Amber had. She threw the door to the outside open, left it open so she could still hear the baby. And she called out, "AMBER!" as loud as she could yell. No signs of a little girl running around in the parking lot. The car was still there.

Where should she look? She didn't know how long her little girl had been gone. Didn't know how long she had been asleep. What had Amber been thinking? Had she woken up to Sarah passed out on the floor? Tried to wake her up? Or had she been awake the whole time after Sarah passed out? That would be enough to traumatize a child to run away in search of a safe place. What kind of mother was she? What would she tell the police? That she had been unconscious from drugs and one of her kids ran out of the motel door?

She ran to the edge of the parking lot, calling and calling for Amber. The parking lot, completely empty except for their run down vehicle, showed how little business this horrible motel got. Sarah understood why.

The highway stretched a few feet away from the parking lot. The only thing separating the parking lot from the highway was a gully that went down, pretty steep, with tall grasses growing up. Other than that, Sarah would have to go and search along the other side of the dingy place. She screamed once more, trying to hear a response above the traffic when she saw something move in the grass.

"Amber?" She yelled, and a little head of short brown hair turned and looked up at her. Sarah's terror flew away as relief attacked her. She ran down, the rough stones cutting into her bare feet but she had to get to her daughter. "Amber!"

She heard the little girl's voice as she got closer. "Mommy! You're alive!"

Sarah grabbed her little girl in her arms, swinging her little body up into a hug that was more for Sarah than it was for Amber. Holding her close, she could feel that her little girl was safe. That she was in her arms and not lost out there somewhere. Amber's little arms surrounded Sarah's neck, and Sarah heard the little girl cry out, "I thought you were dead, Mommy! I thought you were dead like in the movies!"

Reassuring her daughter, Sarah quickly made her way back up to the parking lot, ignoring the cuts on her feet as she said, "No, honey, Mommy's fine. Mommy was just sleeping. You're fine."

Amber sat up, so she was looking into Sarah's eyes, and her little voice sounded so serious as she said, "I was going to get one of those ambliances to come and get you."

The fear in her little girl's eyes was enough to smite Sarah's heart. She couldn't imagine the terror of a young child waking up to see their mother lying there, unresponsive on the ground. Hugging her daughter close once more, she set Amber down on the ground, her little crocs on her feet with her pajama nightgown looked just about as bad as Sarah's thrown together outfit with no shoes. Her daughter had remembered the shoes.

But Sarah crouched down so she was at Amber's eye level. And she said, "Amber. No matter what." She made sure the tiny brown eyes were focused on her. "… you cannot leave the motel room without Mommy or Daddy, do you hear me?" She had to be firm, and after what Amber had been through that morning, Sarah knew that she might be scaring her. But thinking about Amber running through the gully to get to the highway to try and stop and ambulance – even if Sarah had been dying, she would have never wanted Amber to put herself in danger like that.

Amber solemnly nodded her head.

Sarah again pulled her little girl close, until Amber said, "Mommy. That's too tight."

Letting her daughter go and standing to her feet, Sarah said, "Come on, kiddo. Let's go calm your brother down and get some breakfast, shall we?"

Amber nodded, and they walked back into the motel room. Amber skipping while Sarah walked. Normally both mother and daughter would have skipped, Amber would have giggled at seeing her mother jumping around with her. But today, Sarah's body and soul were just too heavy to skip anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, Ma'am." The woman with wrinkles that looked like the Grand Canyon said over her thin glasses that sat on the end of her extremely pointed nose. "But without a tax return form and your husband's identification, you…"

Sarah rolled her eyes and finished the sentence she had heard enough to know exactly what she was going to say. "… don't qualify for the food stamps, I know." She shifted Drew to her other hip while she tried to keep her composure from showing how frustrated she was. "But as I've told probably everyone in this place, including the drunk man leering at me from the corner of the waiting area," she gestured her head behind her. "My husband is self-employed and isn't around at the moment…" After the seventh or eighth time telling complete strangers how her marriage was failing, it didn't embarrass her as much. "So, if you follow that logic, I still need the assistance because my husband doesn't have the funds to…"

The woman didn't even look up from her paperwork as she dismissed Sarah with a "Next!"

Sarah started to step back to let the woman with the Coach bag step up to the counter, but she looked at Drew's face that was so sleepy and tired and Amber's small frame as she sat on one of the waiting room chairs swinging her skinny legs back and forth. And Sarah put her arm on the leather coat of the woman coming up behind her. Apologetically, she said, "Just one second." And then she turned back to the rude receptionist and her voice became very strained and clipped. "Listen here, Missy." Sarah leaned over the counter, willing herself not to point her finger in the woman's face. "I need those food stamps. If anyone in this office qualifies for them, it's me. And you're saying that a nice lady such as yourself can't see that I'm desperate?"

Sarah watched the woman's eyes grow wider as Sarah's anger grew more intense. She wasn't done. "What am I supposed to do? I have no money to feed my kids?" She knew she sounded like a lunatic, raving on and on about her life which absolutely no one in this hole cared about. But she couldn't help herself. "I can't find my husband, who's been gone for days, leaving us in some run-down motel that's about to kick us out."

She took a breath. And the haughty woman behind the counter just shook her head and said, "The only thing I can tell you is that you should have thought a bit more about your choice of husband."

Sarah shook her head as the blow hurt. "As if I haven't thought that every day." She turned, giving up, and held out her open hand that Amber ran to, slipping her little fingers into Sarah's protective grip.

The woman with the Coach bag stepped aside as if Sarah and the children were lepers, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she quipped, "If the food stamps don't work out, girl, you should at least try and see if there's a government clothing fund." Sarah watched the woman's eyes fall to Amber's dirty shoes and jeans with holes in them. "Although I'm sure you've thought of that too."

Amber's little voice found Sarah's ear. Amazed at how she seemed to understand what was going on, Amber said, "Well I have light up shoes. And you don't." She said to the lady, that let out a loud huff and moved up to the counter.

Grateful for her daughter's defense, yet saddened that her daughter had to come to her mother's defense, Sarah said, "Let's go, Amber." And they walked out the door, Amber skipping as she held onto Sarah's hand, her little light up shoes barely able to be seen through the dirt that was caked on the side.

When they got outside, Drew started moving and grunting as he pointed to the ground. Walking over into a small grassy area with a bench, she sat down, placing his little body on the ground, letting him steady himself on his wobbly legs that were new to walking. Pulling his shirt down over his scrawny little belly, she said, "You were such a good boy in there, bud." Letting her hold him for almost three hours while she haggled over their next meal and lost, she just shook her head in amazement as he toddled over to a leaf that caught his eye. "My little trooper."

Amber ran over to where her brother was playing with the leaf and found a stick that immediately turned into a sword. Sarah sat back on the bench, her eyes never leaving her children. "Amber, do not swing that stick around your brother." The stick was soon forgotten as her daughter soon found a little ladybug in the grass.

Entertained so easily. With things so small. Sarah wondered what she had done to deserve two great kids like she had. It must have been luck because, God help her, she deserved nothing good right now.

Her stomach growled, and she wondered, even if she didn't deserve it, if her children deserved food? Crossing her arms in front of her, she watched the kids follow the ladybug around, Amber pushing Drew's fingers away every time he reached for it. The first time he ate one of Amber's pet bugs, she had learned – keep him from picking it up, and it was much easier to keep the bug from his mouth.

She was startled as a man in a security uniform walked over to her kids. She jumped up and was by her children in a split second. "Can I help you?" She asked defensively – watching her kids just playing mindlessly.

In his brown uniform with brown shoes and brown hair and brown eyes, she might have mistaken him for a cardboard box. Except for the gun on his hip. That changed things. He cleared his throat and said in a haughty voice, "Are these your kids?"

A little bit angry at his tone, she snapped back, "That's what they tell me. I guess when I gave birth to them, they just stick around, you know?"

His stone face didn't move to laugh at her lame attempt at humor. He just said, "We ask that no one steps on the grass."

"What?" She said, her mouth falling open. "You've got to be fucking kidding me?"

He turned and said, "Not kidding. There's a park a few blocks down the road." And he walked off. Standing at the top of the stairs of the building, watching her.

She couldn't even sit on a bench and let her kids play in the grass. "Come on, kiddos." She was met by her daughter's brown eyes and her son's green eyes. "Uncle Sam decided to take away the ability to play."

Amber ran over to her. "What, Mommy? We have an Uncle Sam? Is he nice?"

Sarah held her hand out to Drew and again called, "Drew, come to Mommy." He looked up with a huge smile on his face and she rolled her eyes, walking quickly over to him. His little fist was squeezed tight. She pried it open to find the ladybug that had been such a good playmate smooshed all over his over-enthusiastic hands. Rubbing his hand over the soft grass to get the bug guts off before he put his hand in his mouth, she whispered to him, "Not a word to your sister, young man."

Taking his other hand in hers, she started walking onto the sidewalk and down the crowded busy street. Answering Amber's question, she said, "We don't have an Uncle Sam. We have an Uncle Adam and Uncle Crosby." The faces of her two brothers flew to her mind. And then she added, "And Aunt Julia is married to Uncle Joel."

Her daughter's eyes darted from the fancy dresses in the shop window to the loud motorcycle hurdling down the road. But she still carried on a conversation with her mother. "We have a lot of Uncles." She said. "But, Mommy, where do they live?"

Immediately Sarah's mind flew to their old farmhouse in Berkley. The red brick home that always smelled of something wonderful. The open backyard to play in, plant flowers in. The driveway that meandered down the path, the perfect smooth surface to ride bikes on. The barn where her dad always kept the old farm equipment that they never used. Where he taught her how to fix almost anything in a car. And how to be her own person. A strong woman. Independent. Not needing anyone to take care of her.

The second time in a few minutes, Sarah's stomach growled. And she knew if her father could see her now, he would be so disappointed in her. Not having a house. Or a job. Not being able to really take care of her kids. Wondering where the next meal for her children was going to come from? That wasn't something a Braverman would do.

And her mother. God. Her mother would be so heartbroken. So desperately saddened by what Sarah's independence had led her to. Her mother never tried to understand her. Always wanted Sarah to fit a mold. A mold she hated – or had hated. Her mother always told her that being with Seth, dating him, getting engaged to him, and marrying him, would lead her into a life that she would despise. That would be horrible and unthinkable. They fought over that, Sarah screaming at the top of her lungs how she loved her fiancé. And she wasn't about to let her mother ruin their lives by trying to keep them apart. So many things were said that day. Her mother was painting something in the garden, or had been when they started screaming at each other. Sarah had flipped her mother off. Her mother had yelled louder. Her father came out, tried to instill peace, but to no avail. Sarah remembered stomping up to her room and grabbing a suitcase from under her bed. Throwing everything she could fit into the suitcase, she waited for Seth to come pick her up. Marching right past her mother's garden painting, she threw her suitcase in the trunk of Seth's car, and drove away.

That was the last time she had seen her family since.

Nine years ago. God. Had it been that long?

"Mommy!" Amber called out, pulling Sarah out of her past. "Can we go see all of our uncles?" She was skipping around people on the sidewalk, but still talking to her. "Are they nice? Or mean like Uncle Sam?"

Sarah just smiled at her little girl's question. "They are all so very nice." She would have talked longer, but her son's little hand pulled at her and she looked down and saw him pointing and something.

"Mama." He said, pulling on her arm. "Mama. Cake." And his free hand was pointing to a bakery window, where a huge wedding cake was on display, along with dreamy cupcakes and tantalizing pastries all along the window display.

Amber saw where he was pointing and rushed over, her voice just as excited as her brother's was. "Look, Mommy! Look at that pretty pink one over there."

Letting the kids look in the window, Sarah stood and watched them, with their hands and noses pressed up against the glass, Amber talking to Drew about which ones would be the best. And how the chocolate ones were the best because they had cookies in them. Drew turned, his eyes wide in awe, and said, "Want cake, Mama. Dwew want cake."

A few people walking by smiled at the kids' expressions, and a few comments of, "What adorable children you have." Or "Can cake really be that exciting?" Or "what precious little ones!"

Sarah smiled politely, taking the compliments with a grain of salt. Because sure, her children were adorable – the cutest kids in her opinion – but someone passing them on the street and seeing they were cute and someone caring about them were two different things.

Taking Drew's hand, she said, "Let's go, kids. Go back home and we have some food at home." She was lying. There was nothing at the motel. Since she woke up and Seth was gone, she had been rationing their food. But she didn't want her kids to cause a scene here. Drew looked up at her with a sad look in his eye, but Sarah leaned down and picked him up. "Wanna go home? Take a nap?"

He nodded his head then set it down on her shoulder, his thumb automatically finding his mouth. She walked on, Amber suddenly silent.

"Is something wrong, honey?" She asked her daughter, who was now walking slower and Sarah had to keep urging her to keep walking.

"My feet hurt, Mommy." She said quietly. "Are we almost there?"

The walk earlier that morning had been fun, the energy of the night before hurried them to where Sarah had hoped she would find relief from her hunger. The hour walk hadn't seemed such a long thing. But as her little girl dragged behind her, and Sarah was so hungry, unable to remember the last time she had eaten anything – the journey ahead of them seemed almost unbearable. For the both of them.

But she had to make it. Drew needed a nap. Amber needed a nap. Sarah needed time to think of how she would feed her children now.

After urging Amber to keep up for a few minutes, she crouched down beside her and said, "Hop on." Amber's face was too tired to even see the fun in this. Pushing Drew's head to the side of her shoulder, Sarah made room as Amber's hands wrapped around her neck and her legs around Sarah's stomach.

Normally this would have been seen as fun. Mommy giving the kids a piggy back ride? Something they would squeal and laugh about, urging her to run faster, pretending she was their pony or something else that made playing without any toys fun.

But Amber just laid her head against Sarah's other shoulder opposite Drew.

Holding the weight of her two children, Sarah's already exhausted body ached with each step she took. But the sooner she got them home, the sooner they would sleep. Right? That's what she kept telling herself. As the neighborhoods got seedier, the shops changed from bright bakeries to worn out pawn shops. Thankful she had both of her kids close, Sarah hurried by a few men who looked at her in a way that gave her the chills.

Just a few blocks left until they got to the motel, Sarah heard Amber's stomach growl as they passed an old diner – the smells of burgers frying and apple pie baking reminding her daughter what food really smelled like. Cutting across behind the diner, Sarah tried to walk fast so the smells wouldn't taunt the kids as much as they could.

And Sarah realized how hungry she must be. How absolutely desperate she really was to feed her children when she saw a boy throw a bag of trash into the big dumpster outside behind the restaurant. Because she wondered if someone hadn't eaten all of their dinner roll and if it was in there, what would it taste like? Would she mind the germs? Would she care that someone else had eaten off of it?

The scary part was that she wouldn't care.

The boy walked out with a whole box of what looked to be scraps of lettuce. And old bread. And even some rolls. He threw the box into the dumpster, and walked inside, leaving the top of the dumpster open.

There was no food back at the motel. Her plan had been to tire the kids out so much they would sleep through the hunger until she could figure something out. What a great plan for a mother to have for her children.

But the plan forming in her head right that minute – it would feed them. Fill their stomachs. She worried every day that they weren't getting enough to eat. Of course they weren't. That morning she dipped the two end pieces of an old loaf of bread into an old can of sweetened condensed milk so that it would be softer and sweeter for them to enjoy. That had been the last.

She hated herself even more as she told Amber to hop off her back. And then she woke up Drew, who started to cry even just a little as she set him against the wall of the restaurant and told Amber to watch him. Then she set her torn boot on the ledge of the dumpster, hoisted herself up, and was so thankful that the trash pit was full – she didn't have to actually climb into the dumpster.

Sifting through the bags of trash, she found the old rolls the boy had thrown out. Two whole baguettes. Dinner rolls. She grabbed as much as she could carry before hopping down and told Amber to hold them while she went back and grabbed another handful. Taking off her old sweater, she made a makeshift knapsack, wrapping as much bread as she could fit into it. About five loaves of stale bread, ten rolls, and a few hamburger buns were safely retrieved from the dumpster when she heard the backdoor of the old diner open. An old man came out.

"Get the hell away from here!" He yelled at her. Her eyes immediately went to her children, who both physically jumped in fear at this man's sudden and aggressive appearance. Hopping down like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar – a very dirty and demeaning one – she brushed her hands off on her pants and ran for her kids. "You want food, you come in and pay for it, you no- good thief!"

Scooping up the treasured find in one arm and her son in the other, she said, "Amber, hurry."

The anger in the old man's voice stirred her before exhausted daughter on – Sarah running behind her daughter to be the buffer if the man chased after them. "If I see you around here again, I'll call the police!" As Sarah hurried away from the restaurant, she hoped that Amber didn't hear the horrible obscenities and slurs the man was yelling at them. Although, when they were in the parking lot of the motel, she realized that nothing the old man said would come close to being as vulgar as when Seth was home.


	4. Calling home

The kids sat on the sheet Sarah laid out on the carpet of the room, their little hands reaching for the bread while little crumbs fell out of their hungry mouths.

A mumbled "mama" came from Drew's mouth, along with the little flying crumbs as he toddled over to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, and he held out a piece of half-eaten croissant to her. "Eat." He said. She let him drop it into her hand,  
and then watched as he smiled and waddled back to the little picnic and picked up another piece. Giggling, he handed her another one. "Share." He said, his one little tooth sticking out in his smile.

A small grin came to her face as she took the second piece of bread, and then said, "Such a good boy, sharing with Mommy." As he turned to hand her yet another piece of bread, she just said, "But now it's time for Baby Drew to eat, ok?"

With his thumb and first finger, he held up bread in his hand, his eyes wide and his mouth opened as he said, "Wow." And then put it into his mouth, his eyes still wide.

Nodding for effect, she said, "Does that taste good?" Should a child be this excited and surprised by bread? She thought not.

Amber piped up. "Mommy? Can I ask you a question?"

To Drew, Sarah said, "Sit on the sheet, bud. Don't want crumbs all over." Then, turning to Amber, she said, "Of course, honey. What's your question?"

Looking down at the little pile of buns and croissants and even a loaf of bread, her daughter's eyes scrunched up and she asked, "Did we steal this?"

Oh god. Sarah looked down into her daughter's curious eyes, and she tried to think about how to say this. "Well… No, we didn't." She didn't. She didn't walk into a bakery and hold them up, telling them to put their best food into a bag. She didn't walk  
by some old woman's house and steal a pie out of her window. She didn't go into a grocery store and shoplift from the food section.

"Then…" Amber's mouth was full of food. "…why did that man call us a thief?" She was so innocent, her little fingers playing with the crumbs on the sheet, her little toes wiggling as they always did with her daughter who couldn't sit still.

Biting her bottom lip, Sarah just sat there for a second… and had just opened her mouth to say something when Amber asked, "Do we have any peanut butter?"

Thankful for the scatterbrained daughter she had, Sarah just shook her head, "No, we don't have any right now." Then she stood up and knelt down on the sheet, putting the few pieces Drew had given her in her mouth. "Are you kids full yet?"

Little Drew, with the bottom of a bun in one hand, the top of the bun in the other, and a whole piece of a croissant hanging out of his mouth, shook his head and said, "No" causing what was in his mouth to fly to the floor.

Rubbing his little blond head, Sarah smiled and said, "Well, buddy, you eat the ones in your hand and I'm going to save the rest of these for later, ok?"

Drew nodded his head, already with a full mouth. Amber just said, "I just want this one piece and then I'm done." And she held up what looked to be a little piece of a donut. "It has pink frosting on it."

Sarah knew she should take it away. Because no way had a whole donut been in this pile of bread. Which meant that it had probably been eaten off of. But the look of joy on her daughter's face as she licked the frosting – Sarah couldn't bear taking anything  
else away from this poor kid. Scooping up the rest of the bread, she looked down and saw red on Amber's feet.

Putting the bread in an little trashbag to keep it from going completely stale – a trick she learned from helping out in one bakery a few towns back – Sarah turned and sat on the ground, picking up Amber's foot carefully.

"Owww!" Amber said, pulling her foot away and under her body. "That hurts!"

"You have to let me see it." Sarah said, her motherly instincts telling her that something was wrong.

Amber carefully extended her foot out, but tentatively commanded, "Be careful, Mommy."

Sarah nodded, and held the heel of the little foot in her hand and she looked at all of Amber's toes. "How long has your foot been hurting, honey?" Blisters dotted all along the tops of her toes, one especially large one on the side of her big toe – it  
looked like the thing had popped, and a little blood mingled with pus had dried around it. She looked over to see Amber shrug her little shoulders.

Sarah reached into the first aid kit she had assembled by taking advantage of all the motel's they had stayed in – taking their band-aids and little bit of antiseptic cream. Pulling out one, she put the cream on the band-aid before carefully wrapped it  
around her little foot. And then on the other. Each little red blister on her daughter's little toes drove guilt farther and farther into Sarah's heart.

Little tears on Amber's face from touching the blisters, Sarah asked, "Why didn't you tell me your feet hurt?" After throwing the wrappers away, Sarah leaned up against the bed, pulling her daughter in close, snuggling while she said, "I would have given  
you something to help."

The next words out of her daughter's mouth made Sarah's breath catch in her chest. No five-year-old should say these words. No child, especially hers, should think this. "I didn't want you to have to take me to the doctor." Sarah just kissed the top of  
Amber's head. "When I fell and hurt my hand, Daddy was so mad that I had to go to the doctor."

"Oh, honey." Sarah crooned, trying not to cry. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she just said, "You have to tell Mommy if you're hurting, ok? It's Mommy's job to take care of you."

Amber nodded, and said, "Like you get us food." Then she rubbed her eyes with her fists.

And Sarah rubbed Amber's head and said, "Just like that." Looking around the borrowed room, Sarah noticed that little Drew had climbed up on the bed, bread still in his little hand as he slept. His tiny body curled up on the bed, Amber's skinny waist  
under where she was curled up with Sarah.

"How about you climb up there with your brother and take a nap, baby?" She looked down at Amber, only to find the exhausted girl already asleep, her eyelids fluttering as they lay against her soft little cheeks.

Sarah carefully stood up, careful to set Amber's head down on a part of the sheet that wasn't filled with crumbs from the stale bread. Putting a little blanket from the playpen, she laid it over Amber, cringing again at the bandaged feet that stuck out  
from the blanket.

God. How could she think that her kids wouldn't be affected from this life? Seeing the way that Drew clutched the bread in his hands as she pulled the blanket from the bed up around his little shoulders – no two-year-old should be holding a piece of plain  
white bread that tightly.

And Amber's feet? She didn't tell Sarah because she was afraid Seth would get mad again? God.

Of course she would. After the fit Seth threw when they got the bill for the sprained wrist after Amber had fallen off the stage last year, Amber would be afraid of making her dad angry. Sarah could still remember the way that he had thrown the bill in  
her face, screaming, "See! The bills! All this money! What the hell were we thinking having kids?" He had pointed to Drew, who had been crying on the bed, "We're still paying for his hospital bills from when he was born!" After screaming at Amber  
for not being careful – that if she was his daughter, she needed to learn how to "fucking walk on the fucking stage!" Seth had then told Sarah that he hated the way their life was with kids, and that he was sure, "that kid…" pointing at Amber, "…  
doesn't look a thing like me. You sure it don't belong to some guy you fucked while you were high?"

No wonder Amber had been so scared.

Wrapping her sweater around her body, she made sure the key was in her pocket before she quietly stepped outside the door, needing to be out of the stuffy motel room that was barely big enough for one person, much less two kids. Leaning against the closed  
door, she brushed the hair the blew in the wind around her ears, looking around at the now rush-hour traffic on the highway across the way.

God. What was she going to do?

She knew what she had to do.

But she couldn't. It had been nine years. Nine years.

And what excuse did she have? She couldn't just show up and say, "Hey, family that I've completely ignored for almost a decade! Meet my two children that you've never seen. Oh, and do you think you could spot me some money to buy my daughter a new pair  
of shoes – her feet are bleeding but I just don't have the cash." She stepped away from the door, mindlessly moving her boot over the gravel of the parking lot. "Oh, and I don't know when I'll get it next because I don't know where my fucking husband  
is!" And with that, she violently kicked at a bigger stone, sending it flying across the parking lot.

Now out loud, she started screaming, kicking stone after stone. "I can't even feed my own kids."All the frustration of going to that office today and being turned away with hungry children clinging to her. "I took food out of a fucking DUMPSTER!" Her  
voice escalated, giving no thought to who might be around her. "I fed my children TRASH!" And now the angry tears started to pour out of her eyes. She walked over to her car, and started angrily kicking the tire, over and over again, each kick harder  
and harder. "I can't buy them food." Kick again, putting her hands on the hood of the car. "I can't buy them shoes." Harder kick, so angry she didn't even feel the pain going through her leg. "I'm so hungry but can't eat…" Switching feet, she kicked  
again, "… because I don't know…" With tears streaming down her face, screaming at the top of her lungs, "…when the fucking food will run out!"

And with that, she stopped kicking, her entire body shaking as she cried, her hands still on the hood of the car – the only thing that was holding her up. Her tears hit the car, as she sobbed, her failures seeming to overwhelm her entire body. Her hair  
tumbled into her face, her head hanging down as she felt the weight of the entire situation settle on her shoulders.

Somewhere. From somewhere deep inside of her. From the past. The past that seemed so long ago.

She heard her mother's voice. Quiet. Calming. And sweet. As her mother told Sarah so many years before, "Failures just give us room to change the plan."

Settling her breathing, she straightened up, some twinge in her back sending pain up her spine, normal. She turned and leaned against the car as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her small cell-phone.

Wiping her face and coughing to clear her through, she found the number she was looking for. And she brushed the hair away from her face as she tried to settle herself up before someone answered the now ringing phone.

"Hello?"


	5. The Beating

Hello?"

"Adam?" She said, some sort of calm at even just hearing his voice.

A pause on the other line, before he asked, "I'm sorry, who is this?"

Wishing it was a joke, but knowing that he probably wouldn't recognize his sister's voice after so long – nine years. Sarah simply said, "Adam, it's Sarah."

Again, yet another pause. But this time a little longer. And then the voice sounded so surprised, it hurt her. "Sarah? My sister Sarah?" Disbelief. That hurt. "It's been so long!" He said, and sounded excited, and only then did she realize how much she had missed her brother. "I can't believe it!"

She just nodded her head, trying to keep her voice steady – because hearing him excited to talk to her – it hit home how isolated she had been these last few years.

"Is something wrong? It's just been so long and to hear from you now…" Hesitantly, he continued, "Where are you at now? I can't believe…"

"Fresno." She simply stated, avoiding the question at the beginning, and then added after she was sure her voice was calm, "I know it's been so long."

"God!" He exclaimed, "I just can't believe it's you!"

Again she nodded, looking up at the now darkening sky, "Yep, it's me. Good old Sarah who went rogue on everyone." Way to make it dark, she thought. "How is everyone?" Trying to keep the conversation as light as possible as long as possible.

"Things are going great!" He said, "Let's see here…" Nine years. So much happens in nine years. "Well, Julia just graduated from law school last month."

"Well, that seems to fit her… knew she'd be a lawyer or a doctor." Sarah said. "Always going to be the best, that baby sister of mine." Her sister. A lawyer. While she dug trash out of a dumpster to feed her children. Keep it light. "How's Crosby?"

A small chuckle from her brother, "Same old Crosby. He's thinking about buying a houseboat because living on land is too…"

Sarah finished for him, knowing the saying that her little brother said since they were kids, "…normal." Then she chuckled, until she asked, "And how about you? How are things with you?" It sounded absolutely insane. Nine years. He had been a freshman at Berkley the year she left. Nine years. That's a long time.

Somehow, he seemed to realize just how different life was now. And he sobered up, his tone without laughter or joviality. "Graduated six years ago. Got a job. Now I'm the CEO of T&S Footwear." Ironic. He sold shoes. She couldn't buy shoes for her daughter. "And then…" Something important was coming up. "I got married to Kristina…"

"Kristina Fletcher?" She asked incredulously. "The girl from Berkley? The one you brought home at Christmas?" Nine years. God. Nine years. "How long have you been married?"

She shifted her feet, both causing her pain from her violent kicking fit. Adjusting her hip around, she winced in pain as she listened to Adam, "For six years. Got married right after graduation."

And now his tone sobered even more. "I wanted to send you an invitation, but didn't know where…"

Six years before. She had been pregnant with Amber. Where had they been? She couldn't even remember. But that wasn't her brother's fault. And she told him, "We moved around so much, with the band and everything…"

"Well, we missed you." And then he turned a little bit happier sounding when he told her, "And Haddie, our daughter, just turned four last week."

She was surprised. Why, she didn't know. But she was. "A niece?" She asked, "I have a little niece?" Putting on her younger sister role, she sarcastically said, "I hope she looks like Kristina, because, otherwise, that poor girl!"

A bragging father. "She's so cute. And she just started preschool and she's so smart. Trying to read the books Kristina brings home from the library… it's really cute." Hearing him talk about his daughter like that – it hurt. Thinking about how little Seth ever spent time with his kids. And when he did, normally it was in the middle of the night, yelling at her while they watched.

"I'm so happy for you, Adam." Again, she shifted, her eyes closing as she inhaled through the pain that ran up her back. "Sounds like things are just great for everyone…"

Then it was quiet, and Adam asked, his older brother role coming out, "Sarah… why did you call? After all this time, why…"

"Adam." She said quietly, not willing to get to the part where she asked him to send her money to buy shoes and food for her kids, "How are mom and dad?"

"Sarah…" He wasn't going to let her steer the conversation away from things. "How are things with you? Are you ok?"

Leave it to him to bring out his big brother role before she was ready for it. She couldn't feel like anyone cared for her – otherwise she was going to start to cry. So she talked. "Things here are…" Trying not to lie. "…ummm…" She took a breath, and decided to lead with, "I have two kids."

That was a good start, right?

"Two?" He asked, "Wow, look at you. And I thought I would be the one to bring the Braverman clan into power."

Sarah shook her head, trying to get around the pain in her back, "Dad always did want a dynasty."

"Tell me about them." He said, acting interested.

She could talk about her kids all day long. "Amber is five."

"So she's older than Haddie."

Amber had a cousin. When they were younger, Adam and Sarah had promised that their kids would be best friends. Sarah would be the greatest aunt. And Adam would be there when her kids needed some uncle time. Wow. "She's the most rambunctious kid. But street smart – she can read people like there's no tomorrow." All the times Sarah was sad, Amber knew exactly when that was. "And she can outtalk any politician in the world."

"Sounds a lot like her mother." Came the reply. A little bit of a brotherly edge to that.

Sarah just smiled. "And Drew is two."

"I have a nephew?" Adam asked, "God, think about all the baseball tips he's gonna learn from Dad…"

Learn from her dad. Learn from the dad that Sarah hadn't seen in nine years – the man who taught them all how to throw, bat, and pretty much cuss on that ballfield like there was no tomorrow. Dad. It hurt.

Clearing her throat, she just said, "He's just learning to walk, and he is the sweetest little thing. Always wants to be with me." Maybe that was because she was his only safe place in the horrible world he lived in. But Adam didn't have to know that.

"So…" Adam was hesitantly asking," You're still with Seth, then?"

With Seth. Sarah hesitated. How much "with Seth" was she when she hadn't seen him in two weeks since he injected her with heroin against her will and tore the motel room up during whatever horrible scene had played out with her body while she was drugged. Was she "with Seth" who had left her to pay the motel bill, feed their children, and try to find some way to live while he was off somewhere with someone doing god knows what.

So, she hesitated.

And then she said, "Yeah, I am."

There was a long pause. Like she knew she should expound on him. Tell Adam something about how Seth had a job and was making good money – or that the band was doing well and Seth was on tour – or that she was happy in her marriage and that she loved Seth more than anything else in the world.

But she couldn't.

So there was silence.

Until.

Adam asked, "Sarah," He said her name like he was her dad. Coming to her and asking her a very serious question. Come to think of it, Adam's voice, still sounded like her brother, but had a twinge of Dad's tone. A heavy pause. And then, "What made you call me?" Then, his tone changed, and he clarified, "I mean, it's not like I'm not super excited to hear from you." Of course he wasn't. She hadn't yelled and screamed and cussed at him before she left. That had been her parents who would be upset. "It's just that to get a call from my sister I've heard absolutely nothing from in the last nine years…" God, that sounded so horrible. She had been horrible. "…As a big brother, I just gotta ask. Is everything ok?"

What did she tell him? All she could think was that listening to everyone – back home hadn't changed. Sure, Adam was married and had a daughter. Crosby was buying a boat. Julia had just graduated from law school – she was a lawyer.

Did she tell him that she had a revelation that her life wasn't working out? Did she tell him that since dumpster diving for her children's food, she realized that this life wasn't what she wanted for her children? Did she tell him that she feared every night her husband came home whether he would rape her or not? And, after the last time, did she tell him that she was afraid that Seth would come home and drug her again and that she might wake up and her children could have run out the door? Did she tell him that?

Apparently, she hesitated long enough that Adam said, "Sarah, are you ok?"

Trying to steady her breathing, she started to try and make her life sound better all the while asking for help. But she was sure she was coming across as a mess. "It's been tough, Adam." That was a good start. Honest. But good.

"Sarah," Now it wasn't only concern that she detected in his voice, but worry. "What do you need? Do I need to send money? Do I need to come get you and…" He added it on as he forgot it. "… the kids? What's wrong?"

She whispered, her voice unable even to work, "Oh, Adam…" To hear how fast he wanted to come to her aid, to hear how quickly he would have dropped everything to come get them – after nine years – to hear someone care for her in such a way. It was… she was speechless.

"I mean it, Sarah." He said, and she could tell he was telling her the truth. "I'm on my way to get the keys. I'm coming to get you if you need me to."

She shook her head, and her voice cracked when she said, "No, Adam, I don't need rescuing right away…" She wished she could expect that. "I can't expect to call you after so long and for you to just run and save me…"

He interrupted, "Time doesn't matter to family, Sarah, you know that."

"Nine years." She said to herself just as much as to her brother. "It's been nine years. I can't just think that…"

"Sarah, tell me what's going on. And I'll be the judge of whether or not I can come and get you after nine years."

God, this was so hard… "I don't know where to start…" She couldn't start with the whole feeding garbage to her children. Wow. That would just shock her CEO brother's little heart. Start with the easy part. "Seth's…" She fibbed, "…between jobs right now so things are really…"

"Tight?" He interrupted. "You need money?" She could almost see him reaching into his wallet to hand her money if he was right there with her.

Of course she needed money. She hadn't eaten, other than those two bites Drew gave her, she hadn't eaten in days. But that wasn't why she called. "No, it's just been really tense and the band hasn't had many gigs, so it's been a struggle to make ends meet here…" God, she was whitewashing this whole thing. "And, with things the way they are, I just wanted to know how things were at home."

That was the right way to say that, right? That explained her call? She knew it didn't.

"Sarah." He knew she was lying. "Like you said, it's been nine years. So…" He paused for effect, "… I know that something other than nostalgia prompted this call."

He was right. He could read her so well, even over the phone. Even after nine years. He could read her. And he knew.

She said, "It's just that Seth not having a job has been…" She searched for the word that wouldn't make Seth look horrible but would convey the sense of a problem. "… a little bit rough here lately with things…"

And Adam's voice caught and she could hear his masked rage as he hissed, "Sarah, if that man has hurt you or your kids at all, I swear to God I'm going to…"

And then she felt a hand grab her wrist, and watched her phone fly to the ground of the parking lot. She let out a scream as she felt her arm being twisted, forcing her around so her face was towards the car she had been leaning against. The grip on her wrist was painful, and another hand reached into her hair, pulling her head up.

She wished that the minute she recognized the smell from his breath as he leaned up to breathe on her neck – she wished that made her calm down.

"Sarah, you little bitch." The vice grip around her wrist forced her hand upward, sending pain, not only through her arm, but also through her back as her body automatically arched her back to lessen the pain in her arm. "Who were you talking to?"

"Owwwwww!" She cried out as he pulled her hair, pulling her neck back as he screamed into her ear.

"WHO THE HELL WERE YOU TALKING TO?"

Tears of pain running down her face. Shooting pain throughout her back. Her arm felt like it was going to break. And the sharp pain throughout her head as he yanked on her hair. "Seth, stop!"

He let go of her hair, but grabbed her jaw, his dirty hand clawing onto her face and his fingernails began cutting into her skin as he yelled, "I asked you a question, Sarah! Who were you talking to?"

She could barely move her mouth through his grip before she whimpered, "Adam." God, she didn't know what he was going to do. This had never happened before. "It was just my brother."

"WHAT?" He yelled, but released her arm.

Still in massive pain shooting down her back, she pulled her arm to her chest while she turned around to face her husband. Who, to her estimation, was not drunk. He was not slurring his words. He wasn't glassy-eyed.

But she didn't have enough time to think about it before she felt his hand slam into her face, sending her reeling to the ground, her hands scraping against the pavement as she broke her fall with the palms of her hands.

And now he was standing above her – towering up above her, all the while yelling, "Your brother? You were talking shit about me to your brother?"

God, she had to calm him down. Had to get him to realize it wasn't…

Blinding pain shot through her midsection as his boot collided with her ribs. Instincively, her body curled up, pulling her knees to her chest as she cried out, "Seth, please…" But nothing came out. Because she couldn't breathe. The wind had been knocked out of her.

She lay there, gasping for breath, listening to him berate her loud enough for everyone around to hear him. "I go out and work so you and the kids can have a place to live. I won't have my wife talking shit behind my back." Another kick to her shins. He pulled his leg back, powering up for another kick. "All you have to do is stay home with the kids, you unthankful bitch!" This time, his boot hit her hands that were covering her knees.

She just laid there, wanting to tell him to stop. Wanting to do anything to make it stop. But she still couldn't breathe.

"I won't have your family up in our business, do you hear me?" This time, his foot connected with her shoulder, sending her curled up body back against the tire of the car. Where he then proceeded to repeatedly, and in short bursts, kick her over and over again. One right after the other. "I asked you a fucking question, you worthless cunt…"

She tried to block her head, but one of them rang true. Right in her face, and she felt blood begin to fill her mouth. She just nodded her head, unable to breathe, and, right now, she could barely speak through the liquid filling her mouth.

With one final kick to her legs, he stepped back, winded from all the effort he put into the last few minutes. Wiping his brow, he simply said, "I'm leaving for the night. I'll be back in the morning."

God, he could just stand there and talk like this while she could barely see? And barely move? And still hadn't caught her breath?

"Have everything packed and ready to go, do you hear me, bitch?"

She watched as he pulled his boot back one more time, and she had never moved her head up and down as much as she did right then – she heard him. She wanted him to know that. She didn't want any more pain right now. She didn't think her body could handle it…

"Good." He said, looking down at her with a smirk on his face. "You do that, woman." And then he was gone…

After what seemed like hours, she finally felt the breath she had been struggling for finally filled her lungs, and, as horribly painful as it was to just breathe, she knew she needed to. But as she breathed in, she felt the warm liquid that was dripping out of her mouth – she felt some of it in the back of her throat, causing her to choke, sending her already beaten body into a coughing spell. She could feel the blood on her lips when she stopped coughing, wiping it away with her sleeve.

She heard something. Through her ringing ears. She could hear it.

"Sarah?! Sarah!?" Her name. Over and over. But not someone.

She could barely look around. But she didn't think there would be anyone around. Not someone who knew her…

And then she saw it. Just a little bit away from her face.

Her phone.

Turning her body, crying out in pain as she shifted her arm and her ribs to reach for the phone, she clutched her bleeding hand around it, and brought it up to her ear.

She could hear her name. Being called out. Frantically. The voice getting louder and louder as she brought it closer and closer to her ear.

"Sarah? Sarah? Sarah?"

She couldn't believe it. "Adam?" She whispered, her mouth aching as she moved her jaw.

"Oh my god, Sarah! What happened? I thought I…"

Oh, god. Now he knew. He knew that things were bad. He knew. How much had he heard?"

"Are you alright?"

She was laying on the cold pavement of a run-down motel, her face bleeding so much she had to spit the blood from her lips, her fingers bleeding and aching even from just holding the phone. She wondered if one of her ribs was broken, her abdomen hurt that badly. And, from the pain shooting up her legs, she wondered how on earth she was going to get into the room to be with her kids when they woke up.

And, for the first time in a very long time, she admitted defeat. "No. I'm not." She whispered.

Then, she heard something she had missed so much. Someone to take care of her. Taking charge with her best interest at heart. "Do you need me to call an ambulance for you?" God, he must have heard everything. To think about an ambulance. But she shook her head. The ambulance wouldn't let her take her kids with her. She couldn't leave them in there.

"No." She said.

"Where are you at?" A parking lot. A run-down motel. Hell? Adam explained, and Sarah could hear keys in the background. "I'm on my way, Sarah. Can you get to a safe place?"

Turning to her side, she pushed herself up into a seated position, her head spinning and she cried out as pain shot through her ribs while she sat up. "I… I… think so." Her hair clung to her face – from what on her face, she only hoped wasn't blood. But her face was warm by her hair – so, probably.

"Now, tell me the address and I'll be there in two hours." It took two and a half-hours to get to Fresno from Berkley. He was coming to get her. "And if Seth comes back…" He knew it was Seth. He knew. Someone else knew. God, she had never felt so conflicted in her life. "…you call the police, Sarah, do you hear me?"

She just said, "Yes." And then all she could think was that, "It's the old motel off of exit 34 on highway 120." That was as much as she got for an address lately.

He was coming. Someone was coming. He knew. Someone knew. And then, just before she hung up the phone, he said, "Just hang on, Sarah. I'll be there soon."


	6. Chapter 6

Adam swerved around a vehicle to get off on the exit Sarah had told him.

He slammed his hand down on the horn. And yelled, "You IDIOT!" Couldn't they see that he was in a hurry?

Pulling off the highway, he turned left, seeing the sign for a very seedy looking motel through the rain that was pelting his windshield. God. This couldn't be it.

He looked at the clock, seeing just how long it had taken him. An hour and forty-five minutes. He had cut 45 minutes off of his time.

Who wouldn't? Not after hearing his sister's screams. God, his stomach turned with the car as he drove into the motel parking lot. He had never felt so helpless. Standing there, in his living room, his wife looking at him with eyes that didn't understand. The wonderful living room she had decorated, full of their wedding pictures, pictures of baby Haddie, and even their last family picture with all of the children.

Except Sarah.

Who was on the other end of the phone, screaming in pain.

So many years. So many times he had looked back at old photographs and seen her face – his partner in crime – the one who would drag him along on her hair-brained ideas that would normally result in them both getting into trouble, ending up spending the night in their rooms without supper, or being grounded for the weekend. But they always did it together.

But, for this, she was alone. He had called her name, pacing the floor of the living room, desperately not knowing what to do – just calling her name, over and over. Listening as that man – that horrible man – screamed horrible things at his sister, calling her names Adam had never even heard uttered out loud before.

Her wails still echoed in his mind as he pulled into the parking lot of this beaten down shack some imbecile had the audacity to call a motel – the five or six doors on the bottom level looked like a haunted house, empty parking lots, brown doors with only one light at the end of the set of doors. The sign for the hotel was burned out, not even blinking in the darkness.

His windshield wipers gave him only a little bit of sight to be able to see his car lights illuminate the lone car in the lot. Desperate to find her, he wondered if the car belonged to her – if she was here – he should try that.

His heart was pounding as he realized he didn't even know where she was. Pulling the car up besides the old blue one that had already been there, he threw it into part and pulled his coat collar up around his neck as he jumped out. The cold rain pelted his head as he stepped out, the icy wind blowing the water caused him to raise his arm to shield his face as he ran to the car. Looking around, he wondered where he should start. Banging on doors? Calling her name? But no one could hear him through the howling of the wind around him. God, where could she be?

Despite the insanity – he called out her name, the only thing he could think. "SARAH!" He could barely see more than a few feet away as the rain came down in torrents on top of him. "SARAH!" He had to find her. She sounded so desperately hurt on the phone. He had to get her. He had to… "SARAH!" He screamed at the top of his lungs…

Other than the pounding of the rain on the car beside him, clattering like tin cans tumbling down stairs – the tin roof of the walkways like drums in a haunted band – through all of that, and the cold rain on his face – through all of this – he heard something…

Like a little child.

Or a meowing of a little kitten.

It was then that he looked down, and saw, from where he stood at the back of the car that had been parked there – on the ground… something… he bent down, and picked up what looked to be a room card – covered in mud. Holding it up to his eyes, he saw the room number, seventeen – and then he saw that the dark mud was also mingled with something else… something else on the card… something brown… or, red…

He opened his mouth, and again called, "SAR…"

And he heard. Weakly. "Adam?" Through the torrents. He brushed the water out of his face, his wet hand not changing the cold on his face as he tried to clear his eyes enough to see…

God.

His stomach fell.

Someone was there. Sitting against the front tire, their back up against the car, but their head falling down onto their chest, shoulders barely sitting up. Thin legs, stretched out in front of the emaciated body, were covered in soaked jeans.

He walked over, kneeling down and taking his hand away from blocking the rain from his eyes. He took his hand and peeled the hair that was stuck to the face of the person in front of him. Dark, soaked hair caught onto his wet hand as he pushed it away, revealing the face of…

"Sarah…" He breathlessly asked, even though he was seeing it, his mind couldn't believe it. This person couldn't be his little sister. Not the little sister who got into more fights at school than any other of the Braverman children. The gash on the top of her forehead, leaking blood down onto her eyebrows, shattered any illusion of his little sister that beat up most of the boys in his grade in elementary school. He couldn't tell whether the blood running down her chin, cascading down her neck was from her bloody nose or her teeth that were covered in red.

But when her eyes fluttered open – no, he looked twice, her one eye opened – the other one was completely swollen shut – but when he looked at her, her blue eyes that was bloodshot – he could see it was his sister. He would never forget her blue eyes that would stand over his bed in the middle of the night, scaring him half to death asking him to come and play, or go out exploring the neighborhood at night. Or the way she would taunt him, begging him not to tell their parents when he caught her sneaking out to go meet with her clandestine boyfriend to go to a party. He would know those eyes anywhere.

And he again, whispered her name, just to tell himself that it really was his sister. "Sarah…"

Then he watched her mouth move, blood leaking out the sides of her lips, water from the rain dripping down her nose, mingling with the red as it flowed down her face like a waterfall – and the first thing she said was, "Mmm..mmmyy bbbaabbbiieess…" And she stuttered, her lips shivering from the icy cold outside.

Her head still hung down against her chest, almost as if she couldn't lift it to even look at him. With his wet hand, he touched her chin, bringing her face up so she could see him through her one eye that was open. And he said, "Sarah, we need to get you inside…" Then he remembered, the key… the key card. He reached into his pocket, where he had placed it, and pulled it out, looking to see what room number it was again. "Seventeen?" he asked, hoping this was her room key. Looking back at her, he saw her head had fallen, not forward, but backwards, leaning against the car, her neck turned so she was looking at him.

Lips shivering like the rest of her body, he heard a faint, "Yes." And then watched as the blood from the gash on her forehead – he watched as it began to run down into her eyes, down the side of her face, until the blood reached the hair that was plastered to her face through the rain and the blood. Then he listened, her voice so quiet and mumbling through whatever injuries she had to her mouth, "Bbbbaaabbbiiess…" And she looked at the card in his hand.

He nodded, blinking the rain and tears from his eyes as he said, "Come on, let's get you inside." And then he reached his arm around behind her, finding under her arm farthest away from him, securing his hold and his footing before he said, "One, two, three…" And he lifted her up, her head falling forward as he picked her up, wrapping his free hand around her closest arm, supporting her entire weight while her weak legs sought for footing.

From her bowed head, he heard whimpers of pain, and her free hand wrapped around her stomach. When he took a step forward, her foot tried to step, but stumbled, Adam's hand going into her arm holding her up. And a cry of pain that sent shivers down his spine came from his tiny sister in his arms. And he could feel her entire body start to breathe short, painful breaths, and he decided that it would be better to just get them inside quickly, out of the cold rain, inside where he could lay her down and get her out of the wet clothes that clung to her body. And he said, "Just lean on me and I'll get us there."

Her last act of complete surrender to him – she laid her head against his shoulder, while whimpers mixed with wails escaped her mouth as he trudged, step by step, through the puddles on the ground to the covered sidewalk – the wind blowing so much that they were just as wet under the cover than not while he fumbled with the key – his own hands shaking from being cold as he slid the key through the reader – and, hearing the click, he turned the handle, then tossed the door open and grabbed her again with his other hand, helping her limp into the room.

If you could call it a room.

The light was on. Of course the light was on, because there were two little people running around inside of the room. The room that was so small. What seemed to Adam to be no bigger than a storage garage – enough room for the double bed that sat in the middle of the room – a small TV stand against the wall opposite the bed – in the corner of the room as he walked in, a tiny table sat, piled up with suitcases and an old guitar case. Then, right along the wall where the bathroom started, he saw a small playpen – jammed up, but still in the way of the bed – and it looked to be that you would have to climb over the bed to get to the bathroom.

"Who are you?" Came a little voice from the little person jumping on the messy bed. A little girl – must be Amber – with brown hair flying through the air as she jumped up and down – she looked at him while jumping and twirling, and he saw her take a big piece of what looked to be a loaf of bread – and put it into her mouth while her body went up and down on the old messy bed.

A very quiet whimper came from his sister, and he remembered he needed to get her to the bed. And he said to the little girl, "Can you stop jumping and make space for your mom?" He watched as the little girl stopped mid-jump, shrugged her shoulders, and then bent over and pulled the sheets away from the space closest on the bed. Turning Sarah around, he carefully sat her down, making sure she was able to lean herself up before he let go.

"Ummm…" The little girl had her hands on her hips, like she was a sixty-year-old grandmother instead of the five-year-old girl she was. "So what's your name and why are you helping my mommy? My daddy only helps my mommy sometimes…" Then she scrunched her eyes up and looked at the ceiling – deep in thought. "… no, normally my mommy just helps herself. She's cool like that…"

Now that Sarah was sitting there, Adam thought he had time to think – take in the place that his sister had been living in – he thought he had a second before he saw a little form running towards Sarah – and, without thinking, Adam reached down and scooped the little runner up into his arms, not wanting anything to touch his sister, who was in so much pain.

The little guy in his arms – his green eyes were so wide as he looked at Adam and shook his head. The first thing that Adam noticed was how scrawny the little kid was – both his hands fit around the boy's waist as he held him up in the air. Glancing over to Amber, who had jumped off of the bed and was rummaging through a white garbage bag, he noticed that she was also a skinny little thing.

"Mama." The boy started to say, his voice starting to crack as he wrangled to turn towards Sarah. What was his name again? Adam couldn't remember, but he watched as the little boy started to cry, big, fat tears coming to his eyes as he reached his… Adam did a double take – both the scrawny hands of the toddler were filled with bread. Bread? What was with all this bread? And how on earth did Sarah get her children to just eat bread? Haddie would barely eat a sandwich, much less just bread… even her Cheerios had to be sweetened – not the plain kind. So for not one, but, Adam threw a look over at Amber, who had pulled out a piece of what looked to be pumpernickel bread – but both of her kids had plain, boring bread – it was just too much.

Now the kid in Adam's arms was crying, reaching out. "Mama! Mama! Mama!"

Sarah's head lifted off her chest, and she looked up. And then the kid in his arms started screaming. Like he was afraid. But suddenly he clung to Adam. Looking at his mother and screaming. "Scary. Mama scary!" He cried through his screams.

The room was chaos. The toddler in his arms – the name of whom he couldn't remember – was clinging to Adam's wet coat, screaming so loudly, that Adam could barely hear Amber – who was now twirling around the room, her hair flying everywhere as her little… Adam looked and saw that each of her toes were covered in bandages… little feet stepped on a crumb-filled carpet.

But Adam tried to focus on his sister – who, now in the light of the room, sitting on the messy bed, looked ten times worse. Because now, her face wasn't just the thing he saw – he noticed her blood-covered lips were turning blue underneath – not just her shaking lips but even the skin around her lips. And her eyes too – he couldn't tell if her eyes were just black and blue or if the tint of her entire face was changing from the cold.

He couldn't just let her sit there. So he asked, "Can I put him in the…"

Sarah just nodded, knowing what he meant. And then she whispered, "Amber…"

Adam went to open his mouth to tell his niece that her mother wanted her – because, realistically, there was no way that the little girl, so wrapped up in twirling around, would have heard Sarah's feeble attempt to get her daughter's attention. But he didn't have to.

Because Amber heard, and went over to her mother right away, taking a big bite out of the bread in her hand. And, through crumbs flying from her mouth, asked, "Yes, Mommy?" No amazement whatsoever looking at Sarah in such a condition. Such a beaten state. Blood and brusies covering her face. They didn't faze Amber as she looked up at her mom, waiting for instructions.

Setting the now screaming child in the playpen, he picked up one of the little wooden trains from the ground outside of the bed and put it in with him. But the kid, still screaming, didn't even look at it, only looking up at Adam with fear in his eyes, and then to his mom, and back to Adam.

Walking back over to Sarah, he heard the conversation going on between a very quiet Sarah and a very attentive Amber.

Quietly, which was probably just as loud as Sarah could talk, she said, "Amber, I need you to settle down now."

The little brown curls that reminded Adam so much of Sarah's hair as a child bounced up and down as Amber nodded, "Ok."

"And…" Sarah winced as she swallowed what Adam thought was probably blood. "Do you remember where Mommy put the special box for you and Drew?" The little girl shook her head. And Sarah weakly smiled and said, "It's under the bed."

Amber just took another bite of her bread, and then said, "So does this mean that you're going to go in the bathroom and cry again?" No concern. No fear. Just a curious question from a five-year-old.

Adam's heart started to pound as he watched Sarah's eye, the one that was open, get wider, and she started to say something, but Amber cut her off. "I mean, whenever we get to play with the special box, you always go into the bathroom and cry…" Oh, god, Adam's stomach fell. "…But normally you and daddy fight first so what happened now? Did you fight outside? Is that why you were gone so long?"

"Amber." Sarah said, her voice shaking. "Just go get the box and get in the playpen and play with the special toys from the box, ok?" A little bit sharp tone from his sister.

Amber nodded. And then she said, "Did you fix the toys from when Daddy broke Drew's toy car, Mommy?" Adam listened as this girl, only a year older than his innocent little Haddie, but this girl talked about things that was making even him sick. "The toys are for when Daddy's mad, but that means sometimes…" another bite of bread, "…he breaks them when you're fighting." Then she looked around the room and said, "But Daddy's not here, just this man – but he doesn't look mad. Or drunk." Adam was glad he didn't look drunk, but for a girl her age to know what drunk was? And she wasn't done, despite Sarah repeatedly calling her name, "You look like you need to go in the bathroom and cry because then you look better when you do. But you scream a lot." Then she pointed to the cut on Sarah's forehead, and, talking over Drew, who was still screaming, Amber said, "… are you going to make those funny little bugs on your owie? Like with the string and scissors again? That looked so cool."


	7. Chapter 7

She had to get Amber to stop talking. She said her name, repeatedly, but nothing seemed to stop her chatterbox of a daughter. On and on, spilling out item after item that Sarah would've never wanted her family to know. But the minute Amber talked about how Sarah had stitched her collarbone up that one time – Sarah knew she had to stop Amber. Because the next thing out of her mouth would be…

"Remember when you cried about Daddy hitting you with that drunk bottle? The one that broke on your arm?" Amber wasn't even looking at her, she was already crawling down under the bed to get the box that Sarah had made for them to play with. Her voice, though muffled, was still loud enough that Sarah had to close her eyes, unable to even look at Adam as Amber said, "And then we played the game for taking the glass out of your arm and I won because I got the…"

"AMBER." God, her whole chest hurt as she said her daughter's name so loud, even Drew stopped crying to listen to her. Sarah's head was spinning, and her lungs just screamed in pain as she quietly said, "Get into the playpen and play with your brother right now."

As usual, her daughter still talked back, "Well, do you think that…"

And this time, Adam spoke up when Sarah just couldn't. He reached down and picked the little girl up, and, Sarah knew from experience, that wasn't too much of a task. "Little Miss Chatty, you have your box…"

Amber interrupted him, "Our special box with toys for when Mommy and Daddy are…"

"My turn to talk." He said, interrupting the little girl. "You sit in here…" He set her down in the playpen next to Drew, who was watching him with big eyes but wasn't screaming anymore – just hiccupping from screaming. "…and play with your brother for a while, ok?"

Amber's little lips popped out, like she was really thinking long and hard about whether that would be a good deal or not, and then she nodded her head and said, "Ok." And plopped down, the playpen moving along with Drew, and opened the little box… soon lost in the excitement of the toys that Sarah saved to make them special when she needed the kids to be distracted.

Now, with the kids entertained, she knew that Adam was going to start to focus on her again. She only hoped that it wasn't focusing on what Amber had just told him.

But she knew one thing as another cramp wrapped around her abdomen. She needed to get to the bathroom. Now. She had to see for herself. She had to… "God…" She moaned, her hand that wasn't on her stomach gripped the sheet on the bed. She hated to feel weak, but she had to see. She had to know… Using her hand on the mattress, she tried to push herself to her feet, but the pain that shot down her back, caused her to fling out, "Fuck…" As she fell back to the bed, tears coming to her eyes.

She felt Adam's hand on her shoulder, and she winced and looked up, her eye swollen shut so it looked like she was winking. His voice – her brother's voice – something she had forgotten could bring so much comfort – he said, "Sarah, just sit here. Do you have a first aid kid or…"

Sarah just slowly shook her head, and interrupted him, "Adam. I need to…" Each breath hurt. Each time she moved her jaw made her want to cry. But he had to know. "… I just want to clean up…" She tried to stand up again, but felt his hand pushing down on her shoulder to keep her sitting, "...in the bathroom…" She had to get there. She had to see.

"But…" He was so hesitant.

"Adam." She simply said. "Help me up or I'll just do it myself and it will hurt so much more."

He just nodded, and the reached down to take off his leather coat, which, of course, was completely soaked, little droplets of water falling around him as he tucked his navy tie into his shirt, and then brushed his now curly wet hair back up on his head, and said, "Let's get you to the bathroom, then." And she felt him reach around her, hand under her arm, the other holding her hand as he counted and helped her stand up.

"Fuuuck…" She whispered as she took one step after the other, the worst pain in her back, each move of her legs seeming to shred her lower back in two. The whole room spinning around her, Sarah held onto Adam for dear life as he moved her around the bed. Just as he turned, Sarah caught sight of the bed where she had just been sitting. "Oh, god." She whispered, seeing the reddish-pink spot, bigger than even where she had been sitting – the blood and water mingling together underneath her and seeping through the sheets. She had to get to the bathroom. She had to know. She knew. But she just had to know.

Reaching the tiny bathroom, Adam said, "Let me set you here on the edge of the tub, and then I'll get a wash cloth and clean you up."

Sarah shook her head. And now came the very embarrassing part – especially with her brother. God, a stranger this might have been easier with. She croaked, through shivering lips, "I need to sit on the…"

Red came to Adam's face. He was embarrassed, his brown eyes falling to the ground, and Sarah knew he was trying to think of something to say. "Ok… well, I…"

And she knew. "I can get there if you'll just lift up the lid…." God, this was so uncomfortable, but so was her back sitting here on the edge of the thin tub, her hands gripping the cracked porcelain to hold her from falling off. "Then you could go get me some clothes? These ones…"

At the sound that he wouldn't have to sit and watch what he thought would be her using the bathroom, he perked up, reached over and lifted the lid on the grungy toilet, and then said, "I'll go get you some dry clothes…" Then he looked at her, hunched over, putting both her hands on the rim of the toilet and trying to stand up… and he asked, "Are you sure you can…"

"Just go, Adam." She said, quietly. "The clothes are in the suitcase on the table…"

He looked at her one last time, and she tried to smile through the pain, just to reassure him that she could get herself to the toilet, and he walked out and closed the door.

Then whatever little smile she had been able to concoct to make him feel better left her face as she lifted herself off of the tub, her hands gripping onto the lip of the toilet bowl so hard her bloody knuckles turned white underneath the dried blood and blue bruises. She couldn't stand upright on her own – her back seeming to freeze up on her. Once her feet were firmly planted, she somehow managed to take one hand off the toilet and reach up to unbutton her pants.

God. She didn't want to know. But she had to.

But she didn't need to unbutton her jeans that were soaked with water and… she felt her stomach turn as she looked and saw pink blood in the material of her jeans, right between her legs – seeping down through the material to a few inches above her knees.

Tears now escaped freely down her cheeks as she let her pants fall down to the ground, taking her panties with them, and she couldn't look at them while she turned herself around and slowly sat down on the toilet, the cold from the porcelain just adding to her frigid state.

Breathe. She told herself. She couldn't do this without breathing.

Suddenly another cramp wrapped around her stomach, and she bent over, her arms grabbing at her stomach while her sopping wet hair was between her knees. And she moaned. "Oh god. God. God…" Over and over again, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to come to terms with what was happening.

A knock on the door. And her brother, concerned, "Sarah, are you ok? Do you…" The handle started to turn.

And then she looked down at her panties – and she yelled, "No, Adam. I'm not ready for you yet." More forcefully than she should have.

But he stopped. And said, "Ok, I'm just gonna step outside and call Kristina…"

Sarah would have agreed to just about anything to keep him from coming in and seeing her like this. "Ok." She weakly said, her eyes still glued to her panties – stained with dark red blood – clots clinging to the material. And then everything began to swim as she began to cry.

Her baby. Her little baby she hadn't told anyone about. Her little peanut, as she had started calling the little one growing inside of her. Her stomach felt like her insides were being ripped out of her – and she felt like part of her heart was being ripped out with her.

From her last period, Sarah had figured out that she was about ten weeks along, the last two months having been so stressful with Seth and everything – wondering how badly he would react when she told him about their baby. After how he had yelled and cussed and even thrown her up against the wall when she told him about Drew, she had waited as long as she possibly could to tell him about this new little child they were going to have.

The red clots. Just staring up at her.

Or would have had.

God. She sucked air through her mouth as she cried, the warm tears falling onto her blood-stained legs that were icy cold. It couldn't be over. Her little peanut couldn't just be gone. It couldn't have happened like this. It just couldn't.

But as she stared down at the clots of blood all over her panties, she knew whatever little child had been growing inside of her – whatever life she had kept to herself, reveling in the secret she knew – was gone.

And she sat there, on the toilet, completely soaked through to the bone, her whole body shivering and shaking while she watched drops of blood from her head fall and hit her legs – she sat there and grieved for a little person only she knew had existed.


	8. Chapter 8

Adam hated to leave her in the bathroom alone. But she seemed so insistent. He stood there, awkwardly in front of the bathroom door, not sure what to do.

The noise from him shutting the door caused both of the kids in the old playpen to look up at him, their hands holding what looked to be vintage wooden toys and games. He looked at their hands, dirt caked underneath both their fingernails, their clothes ratted and torn, but they looked like they were warm – something Adam sincerely wasn't feeling at all, not after standing out in the rain.

The little girl looked up at him, like it was no big deal that a strange man would be there, in their room, with their mother who looked so desperately horrible it was hard for even Adam to look at her. But her own daughter just acted like it happened a lot. Which, to Adam, meant that this wasn't an abnormal occurrence. Which made his blood boil as he thought of their father.

"So, why are you here?" She asked, then looked down at her toy. Just another normal question to the stranger she found in her room.

Adam could never understand this. Haddie was so afraid of strangers – she had even been wary of her Uncle Crosby for a while, not until she was about two would she even talk to him at all – despite seeing him every day for pretty much her whole life. But this five-year=old, his niece, seemed fine talking with strangers. "I'm here to take care of your mom." That was a good thing to say, right? How much had Sarah had told her kids about her family back home? If Seth had said anything, especially about Sarah's parents – Adam knew that would've been super negative. But Adam didn't want to overwhelm the kids any more than he….

"But my mommy takes care of herself." Amber said, standing to her feet and putting her small hands on the edge of the playpen. "She doesn't need anyone, except me. I help her."

This child was defending her right to be her mother's caretaker. She was afraid that Adam was going to take away what little usefulness she felt in the little family that Sarah had.

Deciding to screw being careful with how he revealed it, Adam just walked over to the playpen and said, "Well, your mommy is my sister. And brothers take care of their sisters, don't you know?"

Her eyes grew wide and she looked at him, her mouth falling open for a second before she said, "You're Mommy's brother?"

Adam just nodded, watching the other child in the bed turn and push himself up into a standing position, his thumb in his mouth as he just stared Adam down.

"You're Uncle Sam?" He watched her cling to her toy, "The one who wants us not to play?"

Uncle Sam? Like the American Uncle Sam? What? He just said, "No, I'm Uncle Adam."

"Ohhhh…" Amber said, and then turned and rubbed her dirty hand on her brother's blond hair, "Did you hear, Drewster? That's Uncle Adam."

The little boy pulled his thumb out of his mouth, looked over at his sister, and nodded his head, and then stuck his thumb back in his mouth.

"But you were wrong, Uncle Adam." Amber said, her tone so adult-like and jarring for a second. She shook her head like she was a grandmother scolding Adam. Then she put her arm around her little brother, and pulled him to her and said, "Sisters take care of their brothers. I take care of Drew, like Mommy tells me to."

The warmest part about this whole scene that Adam watched unfold before him, occurred with the blond-haired child laid his head on Amber's shoulder, resting and trusting his older sister.

Just then he heard Sarah's moans from the bathroom, "God… oh my god…" and he hurried over to the door, starting to turn the handle when she said, "Don't come in here, Adam. I'm not done…"

God, this place. This whole situation. His sister in there, bleeding, sick, beaten up, the bed behind him covered in blood, the kids so skinny and still eating bread – he was beginning to understand that the bread was because that was all Sarah had to feed them – God, this was just too much… he had to…

"Sarah, I'm going to go out and call Kristina. I'll be right back, ok?"

Hearing her say that was fine, he walked out the door, telling Amber he would be right back and just to stay there in the playpen. Once outside, he ran over to the car, getting in and closing the door, putting his head back against the headrest – trying to take deep breaths and keep himself calm as he pulled out his cell-phone.

It only rang once. "Adam? Is that you?"

"Kristina…" He could only say her name… god, how could this be so horrible?

The concern in his wife's voice wasn't helping. "Is she ok?"

Ok? Was anything about this whole thing ok? He just shook his head, and said, "It's really bad…" He tried to put it into words for his wife to understand, "She's really beaten up, she's… and the kids are all over and then… a motel room and she's bleeding and…"

He couldn't say anything else – he knew it didn't make sense, but he just couldn't talk about this anymore.

Kristina just simply said, "Adam, of course it's a shock. You haven't seen her in nine years and then you have to run over there and save her from something absolutely horrible…"

And then she asked him, "What are you going to do? Staying there with her? Coming home tonight after you get her settled?"

Leave her? Leave his little sister here to wait for that asshole to come back in the morning? Leaving those precious children to watch their mother beaten yet again? Leaving the whole family here to eat bread out of a trash bag?

And he knew what he had to do. He knew Kristina wouldn't put up a fight.

It would be Sarah who would be his most formidable opponent. Always the stubborn one, unwilling to admit when she was wrong, or when she had failed. Looking at the disgusting motel around him, he knew she had failed. This wasn't anything he could ever leave her here to fend for herself – but would she come with him?

The broken body of the woman he carried into the motel room wouldn't be able to fight much, he reasoned. But, remembering Sarah getting beat up by a bully she antagonized until he finally beath the crap out of her – watching her stumble to her feet and tell him to hit her again and that she was going to "grind his fat bones into the dirt" while she wiped her bloody nose – Adam didn't know.

But he had to try.

And he told Kristina, "I need you to have the guestrooms ready."

"What?" She asked.

He just continued, "Get Haddie's old pack-and-play out of the closet and set it up in one of the rooms – the blue one." That would be good for the kids. And then he said, "And then maybe if you have some clothes she could borrow, or something, I only found ratty clothes when I went to get her some…" He was rambling… but he didn't know how else to do it… He took a deep breath before he told himself and his wife, "I'm bringing my sister home."


	9. Going

Her whole body shook. Shivered. She could physically see her legs moving from cold as she pulled off her jeans – she couldn't let Adam see – didn't want the pity – didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want him to know that his brother-in-law had made his sister miscarry. She just couldn't deal with that.

She wadded her jeans up and threw them into the bathtub, willing her head to stop spinning like it was – she felt sick to her stomach, but from what she didn't know? Was this normal when someone lost a baby? Lost her little peanut? Was this what happened? Or was it from sitting outside in the rain after desperately trying to claw her way back to the door to get out of the rain and in so she could know her kids were safe? Or was it from another one of Seth's rage-filled beatings that left her stranded out in the icy rain? Who was she to blame? This wasn't even close to the worst it had been – there just never had been a baby and rain before.

She heard her brother's voice out in the room. "Amber, Uncle Adam needs you to get your toys together, ok?"

Uncle Adam? He must have told the kids. Which was fine with Sarah – no need to hide the fact that her brother had to drive down and come save her from the life she had chosen. But she listened as Amber asked, "Are we moving again?"

Oh no. What her brother must think of her and the life she has with her children – Sarah was mortified – but she was so cold. That was beginning to be the thought that surpassed everything right now…

Adam's voice got closer and closer to the bathroom door, "We're going on a little trip." A trip? Hopefully nowhere cold.

"Where?" Amber asked, and she heard the little feet plop to the floor as her daughter probably climbed out of the little enclosure. "Are we going with Daddy's band? With Mr. MJ?" Just like all the other times they had moved around with the band. God, her teeth were chattering. Was the heat working in the room?

The doorhandle started to turn. "It's a surprise," Adam said, and then reminded Amber, "Get all the toys you want to bring, and…"

"I'll get Drew's and my's clothes too, ok? Just like when I help Mommy pack!"

The door opened a little and Adam just chuckled and said, "Get everything you can think of, little girl. I'm going to get your mommy." Sarah wondered if she could see her breath. Now, into the bathroom, Adam said, "Sarah, can I come in?"

She didn't have any pants on – her pants, wet and bloody – were in the bathtub. But she didn't have anything to cover up with. Through her chattering teeth, she just said, "I nnneed ssssome cllllothesss…" Her arms, still wrapped around her cramping stomach, covered enough of her front that she wasn't too exposed as Adam walked in. She was so cold – was it warmer out there in the room? Or here in the bathroom?

She watched as Adam looked at her and then looked away. But as he looked at the ground he started to take his tie off. "Can you take your shirt off, Sarah?" She looked up at him, confused. She was cold. She needed more clothes. Not less.

"I'mmmm colddd…" She said.

"I know." He had his tie off and now started unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm going to give you my shirt, it's warm and dry and will be easy for you to put on… if you can…" He looked at her, right in the eye – the one that she could see out of, "… can you get your shirt off?"

Without thinking, she brought her hands up to the hem of her tshirt – it was so cold and wet. It wasn't until she was trying to grab it in hier bloody hands that she realized she had uncovered herself, leaving the lower half of her body exposed.

"Oh, Aaaadam…" She apologized, "I'mmm sorry…" God, her voice wasn't normal. She was so cold. Ice. But her brother shouldn't have to…

She stopped thinking as she saw him walk over and grab the bottom of her shirt. "Just let me…"

"Youuu don't havveee too…" She stuttered.

"Sarah." He just said her name like she was five. "Just let me help you."

She couldn't fight anymore. She hated every minute of it as she cried out in pain lifting her hands up so he could pull her shirt off. Again, she wrapped her hands around her stomach – this time just out of awkwardness for Adam, having to help his little sister get dressed.

But he just held out his dress shirt, guiding her arms into it, and then buttoning a few of the buttons, just so it was closed. Leaving her feeling a little less exposed than she was. And it was so warm. And dry. There was still blood on her leg – blood both from her head and from her pants… And she knew she couldn't just stand up without blood coming…

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of her underwear – "I found these in those suitcases… do you need?"

She nodded reaching her hand out to him, but he knelt down in front of her, and just said, "I'll put them on you and then, when I leave, you can pull them up, ok?" Embarrassed, but too tired and cold to argue, she just nodded her head again. Nine years. And this is what it had come to? He pulled them up to her knees, making sure she could reach them.

Turning around, he found a washcloth and turned the water on. And started talking, "I'm going to get this nice and warm for you, Sarah. We just need to clean you up a little bit, make sure there's no room for infection before we leave." He answered her questions without her having to ask them. "I can't leave you here like this. Not with the kids needing you to take care of them while you're so hurt…" She'd been so much worse, but to say that would only make the whole situation more horrible than it was. He turned around and put the washcloth to her face, starting at her trembling lips, to which she winced in pain at the touch. "I'm trying to be careful…" He continued, "And with Seth coming back tomorrow…" Her heart started racing, and she tried to attribute it to the fact that Adam was now wiping the brown-tinted washcloth on her nose, which hurt like hell. "I just can't leave you here. So…"

He stood up and turned to rinse the washcloth out, before he turned, looking her right in the eye, and said, "You're coming home with me."

"What?" Sarah couldn't comprehend… "I cccaannnn't…"

She started to shake her head, but Adam held her chin still while he put the cloth to her forehead and said, "This might hurt…" A sharp, deep throbbing shot around her head, and she opened her mouth, a quick intake of air as Adam tenderly wiped the gash she knew must be pretty big – split from when Seth's boot hit her head… "I'm not leaving you here, Sarah, for that…" A loud cry of pain escaped her lips, causing Adam to say, "Sarah, I'm sorry… I just…"

She brought her bruised and blood-filled hand to her brother's wrist, and pulled the cloth away from her head, and now he was looking at her. And she breathed, "I can't go home, Adam. I just…" The thoughts of nine years – how she would explain everything – what her parents would think when they found out they had two grandchildren they had never met, when they heard from Adam how horrible her life was – and then, as she imagined what she looked like – if they saw her like this – it would just be too painful – to deeply hurtful to see them again. "… so long…" chattering. Her wet hair still dripped, now onto the dry shirt she had on… "… they won't understand and…" She let his hand go to gestured down her body… "… they can't see me…"

Her brother pierced his lips, and continued washing her face, now around her eyes, and she tried, as desperately hard as she possibly could, not to flinch as her tender skin chafed at the rough washcloth – pretty much raw skin against the ratty motel linen. It was a few more minutes while he wiped the blood off her chin and neck, stared for a second at the gash on her forehead, shook his head, and then stood to his feet, now looking down at her.

And, even though he sounded like he was trying to be nice, Sarah could read her brother – the one who would have gladly came to her aid anytime she needed him to when they were little – the one who tried, as hard as possible, to protect her like any big brother would. The time that she caught him threatening one of the kids at school who bullied her – caught him towering above them saying that if they hurt her again, he would hit them so hard their grandchildren would feel it – that was the brother that was standing above her.

He was angry. Sarah could see it. In his locked jaw. His fiery eyes. His clenched fists. The way he looked so stiff and mechanical, clenching the stained washcloth in his right hand. She knew how to see anger – that had been ingrained into her by Seth – usually through means other than just watching him.

"Sarah Tracey Braverman." Full name. Yep. He was angry. But quiet. Not yelling. Or swinging his fists – like another man in Sarah's life. "You are the proudest person I know!" Ouch, that hurt. "Look around you, look at this…" He held the cloth up to her face. "…you sit there, looking like an ad for a domestic violence campaign."

"Hey…" That was uncalled for… maybe.

He didn't stop. "Maybe that's fine with you. Maybe you're fine with living in constant fear of your deadbeat husband…" She watched as he turned around and threw the washcloth hard into the sink. She flinched, just from the action, even though it wasn't directed at her in any way. "… fine with stitching yourself up…" Both hands on the sink in front of him, she could see, in the mirror, his eyes clenched shut as he shook his head, "God, Sarah, stitching yourself up? How much lower can you go?"

"Sttoopppp…" The dry shirt was fine, but she was so cold, trying to defend herself, but unable to sound even the least bit in control.

"No!" He slammed his fist down on the counter, the plastic cups falling over into the sink. "You stop." He whirled around, and now Sarah could see tears in his eyes as he said, "Stop pretending like this is normal. Normal for your kids…" He pointed to the closed bathroom door, "…to have a box that they play with when their parents are fighting…" Guilt. All the guilt. And the cold. "That Amber helped you pick GLASS out of her mom's body!"

"It wasnn't lllllike tttthat…" Amber had made it sound so… God, even she was lying to herself. Amber had said it better than how it really had been.

Adam shook his head again and said, "Like I said, it's fine if you live like this – it's fine…" God, just from his tone, she knew it wasn't fine. Hell, inside of her mind, she knew it wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. "But those kids…" His voice broke as he whispered, "My niece and nephew…" The family he didn't know until tonight that he had. Thanks to her. "… I can't.." Oh, god no. He firmed up his voice, controlling the emotions she could see on his face, "…I WON'T leave them here, Sarah."

He wasn't… He couldn't be… "Nnnooo…" She stuttered, "Ddddon't you dare think… Fffffuuuckkk" She couldn't even talk through her chattering teeth.

"Don't make me do it, Sarah. Don't make me load those kids up in my car and take them away to a safe place…" He ran his hand through his wet hair, "I don't think I could bear that."

"Mmmyy kkids.." They were hers. He couldn't just take them away from her. She wouldn't… Hell, she looked down at herself and knew she couldn't put up any sort of fight that would stop them. "Ffffighht you…" But she would. She would try until she either died or passed out. She stuttered again, "Mmyyy kids." And she put her hand on her chest. It hurt, but she did it. They were her babies…

Then he said, "Don't make me leave you here, Sarah. Please. I couldn't bear to think of you waiting here for that monster to come back and do this again…"

Then he got down on his knees, grabbed both of her hands in his, and held them up to her – the place where her wedding right would have been on her left hand saturated through with blood and even bruising around it – and he held both her hands up and pleaded with her, his eyes going back and forth from her one eye to the other closed one. "Please, Sarah, just come home for a few days. Rest. Sleep. Think things through."

Going home was the last thing Sarah had ever wanted. Showing them how much of a failure she was at life – that had been what had kept her from ever going home in the past. The same of them seeing her like this – it was something she didn't even want to comprehend.

But the thought of being left here – alone – while her brother took her kids to what she knew would be a safer place – especially when Seth came back – sent her already shaking body into what she could only describe as shock – she automatically curled up, the cramping in her stomach taking a whole new pain level – her head throbbing more and more – and now her hands, where Adam was holding them – everything began to fall apart thinking about Seth coming back.

And she simply looked down at her bare legs, blood and water dried on, and she quietly said, "Gggggauze in the bbboxxx…" And she pointed at the

He didn't let go of her hands, but just tilted his head and asked, "What? I was asking…"

The pain. The throbbing. The gut-wrenching cramps. The loss.

She just snapped at him and said, "Hhhheeelp bbbbandage my hhhead… assshole." It was so rough. So uncalled for. Not after what he had done – driving two hours and carrying her through the rain and helping her dress – but she couldn't think about going any lower – so she just used what little strength she had left to let him know she was protesting his idea but was going along with it. "I'lllll gooo."


	10. Chapter 10

Adam didn't even flinch, didn't fight back. Actually, relief flooded his face as he gently set her hands back on her legs and stood up, turning to get the box when they both heard a small hand knocking on the door.

"Uncle Adam! Uncle Adam! Uncle Adam!" Amber called out, so fast that neither of the adults in the room had a chance to ask her what was wrong. But nothing was wrong. She was just Amber. "I got all of Drewster's clothes and my's clothes and Daddy's clothes too, since Mommy's sore."

Amber always was her little helper. Sarah opened her mouth to tell Amber to just go sit and wait for them, until Adam said, "Ok, good. Now can you find your shoes and help Drew put his on?"

"YES!" Amber shouted, so excited to help. "I learned how to tie shoes lasterday…" Sarah smiled at how her daughter said yesterday. And then they both listened as her little voice carried through the room as she ran to get the shoes, "Drewster, we're gonna get your shoes on like Mommy taught me!"

"Her nickname for him is pretty cute." Adam had gotten the gauze out.

Sarah smirked. "Rrrrremember the nnnnickname you gave mmmme?" Remembering the past was a welcome respite from her shame of sitting on the toilet while her brother bandaged her up.

In a mock offended tone, Adam asked, "What? You mean you didn't like being called, 'Sarah Beara Boo?" He walked over, having put some medication gel on the bandage, he carefully taped it to Sarah's head.

Wincing, she tried to keep her mind off of the pain while she said, "Nnnnoooo…" The little tomboy who preferred playing with boys and running around with a black eye to any kinds of dolls and frilly dresses, that nickname sure did cause her some mental anguish. Her brother then brought out a few more bandages and wrapped them around her knuckles and fingers, from where Seth had kicked her around where she was trying to protect her stomach.

"Do you think you can stand up?" Adam tenderly asked.

She needed something else. But to ask for it, from her brother… it felt like it was the wrong thing to do with him… but she couldn't bend down and get it. So she simply said, "I nnneed a pad. Rrrright under the ssssink."

His eyebrows came down in confusion, "A pad… for what…?" Then, the embarrassment Sarah knew would come to his face flooded his cheeks, and then he turned around, his hand on his head as he tried to think through what she had said, and now not to make this awkward.

Not another word was said as he handed it to her. "So, umm… "He was just stammering and acting like a complete idiot.

Sarah's little sister role seemed to catch up to her, despite the nine years being apart from it. "Ffffffucking turn aaarround."

She had never seen him whirl around so fast, she wondered if he might fall down from being dizzy. But teasing him and being mean to him was a wat to distract herself from the reason she needed this. The last two months, she hadn't needed one of these. And now – she finished putting it on and threw the paper away – now she needed one and the fact that it was already – not seven months in the future – it hurt. Deeply.

When she was done, he took her hands and helped her to her feet, placing her hands on the sink in front of her and making sure she was balanced before he closed his eyes while she pulled her panties all the way up, and then made sure to pull out the oversized dress shirt that came a little past her panties.

Then he helped her out of the bathroom, but not before she looked back into the toilet – covered in blood… and tissue. And she had to close her eyes and try to get the image out of her mind before she started to cry. Not yet. She couldn't yet. Later.

While they walked out into the room, she said, "Ssssooo cccold, Aaaadam." She had never felt cold like this in her life. Not even when they had visited Seattle and Seth had forgotten to put gas in the car and they were stranded out in the middle of nowhere, while she was pregnant, waiting with the band for a tow-truck to come get them. This was worse.

"Mama!" Drew exclaimed from the playpen where he sat, his head pressed up against the mesh material of the sides, and then he looked down where his sister had her tongue to the side of her lips, concentrating on tying his shoes. And then Drew said, "Shoes…Mama, byebye."

She couldn't move her mouth anymore. She was so cold. Adam then set her on the bed – the other side from where she knew the evidence of her miscarriage lay. And then he pulled one of the blankets off the floor – the one that was quilted from all of Amber's old clothes – that Sarah had stitched by hand during her pregnancy with Drew. And he tenderly wrapped it around her, giving her hands the ends so she could cuddle up in it. Then he said, "Now, sit here and I'm going to get the kids in the car and get everything loaded up and then I'll come and get you."

She nodded, watching as everything seemed to blur by her. Pulling his leather coat over his white t-shirt as he told Amber to get her coat on – something she then informed him she didn't have – she just had her sweatshirt – which he then told her to put that sweatshirt on. Him picking up the bags from the ground and carrying them out into the rain – and coming back in to take Amber out, and then picking up Drew, who, with arms extended, asked over and over for Amber, wanting to be with his sister. How he huddled the baby under his jacket while he ran out into the rain – it made Sarah appreciate her brother even more – despite the way that he had gone about trying to get her to come home.

Then it was her turn. She looked around, making sure that they had gotten everything – but even the few diapers she had left for Drew were packed away by the ever-observant Amber.

He said, "It's still really raining out." Which was pretty evident by the water dripping off of his head and jacket. So he just said, "I'm going to carry you."

She should have protested. The old Sarah would have. In fact, the Sarah a few hours before would have. But her teeth had just stopped chattering, and the chills down her back finally stopped making her entire body shake. And so she just let him slide his arm down under her knees, supporting her back from under her arm, reaching her sore arms up and around his neck. Teeth gritted from the pain in her back, she thanked him as he propped the blanket up over her head before he walked out the door of the motel.

The little bit of rain that hit her bare legs stung from the cold, but it was only for a second while he effortlessly carried her through the rain right to the car, leaning in and laying her down on the seat that had been reclined back for her – so she could lay on her side, facing the driver's seat, curling her feet up onto the seat. Adam then adjusted the blanket so it was covering her entire body and he said, "I turned the heat on high. Just bear with it for a little and it should be warmer soon."

Then he shut the door, the rain on the roof of the car the quietest sound in the place.

Amber was whining, "Mommy, why do I have to sit in this baby seat? I don't like it."

And Drew, from the car-seat Adam must have taken from her car, just cried, "Mama. Want Mama." His hands stretched out towards her from where his seat was in the middle of the backseat.

They were both sitting right next to each other, so that the seat Sarah was in could be reclined all the way back so she could lay down. Amber, sitting in a little booster seat, something that must be Haddie's because Sarah had never been able to afford one – her daughter sat with her arms crossed in front of her, her lips out in a pout.

Holding back her whimpers, she let her hand go out to the little man sitting in the car-seat asking for his mommy. And she cooed, "Drew, buddy, it's ok. Mommy's right here, ok?" And she rubbed his little hand until he calmed down. Which didn't take long, because soon Adam sitting down in the driver's seat distracted the boy from his cries. Touching Amber's leg, she gave her a mommy stare that probably was a little traumatizing with Sarah's black eye. "You need to be thankful to Uncle Adam for letting you be safe in his car."

Her sassy five-year-old just muttered, "I feel like a baby."

"Amber." Was all that Sarah had to say.

Then the little girl said, "Sorry Uncle Adam."

Sarah looked up at her brother, who sent her a little smirk and then said, "It's ok, Amber." Then to Sarah, he said, "Now, you just lay back and rest, ok? I'll get us home in good time."

But rest was not available. Because, as Sarah knew, her children were so very interactive when they weren't afraid. Amber started asking Adam every question under the sun, including where he worked, how many kids he had, why she had to sit in the baby seat, and why the moon looked sad. All the while, Drew just loved to sing out random words when he understood what they meant in a conversation going on around him. Which meant that Sarah needed to tune out not only the sing-song questions of her daughter, but then the, "Shoes!" and "Baby!" and "Mama!" from her son.

Slowly, Sarah began to feel like she could feel her body again. Which seemed like a good thing. Until she started to feel pain that she didn't know she had. All up and down her legs, as they began to thaw, she felt the grinding pain of her skin against her bone as the bruises began to form, or the blood began to pool underneath the surface of her skin. And, through the constant questioning and random word shouting, Sarah's head began to pound even harder, both from the blow to her head from Seth's boot, and, she deduced from common knowledge, from the massive amounts of hormones that must be going wild throughout her body. Stomach still cramping, she tried to keep tears from her eyes, but a few slipped out as she closed her eyes.

She didn't know how long she sat there listening to Amber talk and talk, but she didn't have the strength to tell her daughter to be quiet – not after all the times Amber had to be quiet because otherwise she might get hurt. So, in the freedom of Adam's car, Sarah didn't bother.

But the car came to a slow halt, and Sarah opened her eyes as Amber asked, "What are we doing, Uncle Adam?" The bright lights around her – outside the car, and the sudden absence of rain on the car – a gas station.

Adam confirmed. "I just have to stop and put some gas in the car." He grabbed his wallet from the console, always in the same place, her perfect brother Adam always had been so organized. Then he looked into the rearview mirror and said, "If you two are good, I'll get you a snack."

Sarah actually jumped from pain as the kids started to scream in excitement.

Amber yelled, "A snack? Really, Uncle Adam? A SNACK?" And pumped her fists up in the air.

All the while, her brother just clapped his hands and squealed and said, "Tweat! Tweat!"

Adam nodded, and said, "Yes, Drew, a treat." Then he turned and looked at them straight on and said, "But, you'll only get the treat if you're good and sit quietly. Your mommy needs to rest, so you have to be quiet or you won't get anything."

Amber just sad, "We'll be good. We'll be good." Like she was reassuring him of their promise.

"Ok," Adam said, and then turned back around and asked Sarah, "Hey, do you need anything? Any medicine or…"

The thought of swallowing anything right now – of doing anything – at all – she just shook her head, and closed her eyes in pain as the car door slammed.

She didn't know how long he was gone, because she actually found herself dozing in and out, the kids actually being quiet, except for the one time Drew squealed out, "Treat!" And clapped. But that sound was soon followed by Amber whispering, "Shhh… quiet!" Then her toddler was quiet, and Amber just whispered a little louder, "Mommy, did Drew wake you up?" She must have taken Sarah's silence to mean, "No" and then whispered just a bit quieter, "You're lucky, Drew. Now be quiet!"

She awoke to squeals from her children as Adam opened the back-seat door and gave them something – she didn't even open her eyes, just listened as packages were opened and Amber exclaimed, "Donuts? And chips? And crackers? All of them for me?"

And Adam's calming voice just said, "Shhh.. they're not all for you…" Then he whispered her name, "Sarah, will she share if I give them all to her?" She just nodded. Amber would never keep food from her brother – she was always offering the baby her food when they didn't have much.

"I'll share!" Amber exclaimed, almost in an offended tone if a girl her age could be offended. "He's my brother. I take care of him. That's my job!"

"Shhhh…" Adam again reminded, and then said, "Ok, well share with your brother and here's…" A lid popping off.. "A little bit of juice for you two. I'll set it in the drink holder so you can grab it when you want it, ok?"

Drew was quiet except for his hands clapping, until, Sarah surmised, they were filled with something and he was eating hungrily. She could hear him chewing, well, both of them chewing.

And she drifted off to the sounds of her children being fed and safe in a car with her brother driving and awake. For the first time in a while, she knew she could sleep without worrying about what she would wake up to find.


End file.
